#like. to the edge it has such a lovely composition n i love listening to every single part of it. n then the lyrics r so well-made. yk?

[cynettic]

Kissing Genshin Characters before you Die

Summary - Kissing the Genshin Characters one last time before you enter the battlefield.

Pairings - Reader x Albedo / Barbara / Bennett / Beidou / Chongyun / Diluc / Eula / Kazuha / Kaeya / Ayaka / Ningguang / Childe / Venti / Xiao / Zhongli

Warnings - Angst, death mentions

Tips - I wrote this listening to ‘Lovely’ and ‘Listen before I go,’ so it might make it better if you listen to both those songs while reading this :’) Both are by Billie Eilish btw, both reverb and slowed down songs for the extra angst

A/N - Im so tired, so so tired of human interaction and having no motivation to talk to people. Its like my social battery simply does not recharge, and I'm stuck writing about interactions I wish I could have, even if it's angst. Burying myself in the delusion that being in a different reality would change everything, burying myself in little imaginations and dreams of a love that doesn't exist.

Also yes, if you did notice the song lyrics playing at first are from "If the World was Ending," used to listen to that song so much. Thought it would fit this :)

“If the world was ending you’d come over right?”

It was absolute chaos, flames crawling up the wooden buildings and spreading smoke through the nation of Teyvat. Everything burned with the scorching heat, children crying, men and woman trying to run from the unescapable flames. Terror etched into citizens faces when encountering the monsters who appeared unaffected by the destruction.

Hilichurls and ruin guards smashing past people, till there was nowhere to run. And it was the mere decision of whether being beaten to death or burnt crisp was a better way to leave this world.

“You’d come over and you’d stay the night.”

But there you were, weapon in hand as you stood up against the blaze. Strong against the unblinking inferno in front of you, unwavering as you stood in front of the monsters that eagerly rushed towards you. Cut and obliterated in seconds, your eyes held nothing but a sickening disgust.

You slowly turned back to your s/o, relief quenching your heart when they were safe in the little location you’d found for them. They were injured, they wouldn't be sitting on the sidelines otherwise. And holding your weapon up again, you claimed the role of protector against the hoard of monsters.

“Would you love me for the hell of it?”

Their voice broke past your focus, a ragged sound that was suffering. It only took you a few strides till you reached them, crouching down to face them fully. Your faces were mere inches away, and you could see the frustration on their face. A deeply rooted feeling that fueled the action as they curled their hand around your head. Pressing your lips against theirs, one last kiss before you assumed the role of predator against the monsters.

“All our fears would be irrelevant.”

Both hands coming to hold their face, you pressed forwards into their kiss. Grasp tight against them, clinging onto them as if they were your lifeline.

“If the world was ending you’d come over right?”

You kissed them as if the world wasn't a aflame, like it was just you both sitting there. Hands grasping for their skin, for their lips, for them. Because without them you couldn't live in this smoldering world, a bright light that cocooned you in its comforting warmth. Nothing like the blazing flames that surrounded the two of you.

You kissed them like they were the only thing that mattered.

“The sky’d be falling and I’d hold you tight.”

But you felt the shake in their hands as they pressed their hand against your back, scared to let you go, scared to lose you. Scared to let this kiss end and have to face the scorching reality.

“And there wouldn't be a reason why.”

You pressed one last kiss to their forehead, basking in their embrace once more between you broke away. The look on your face was confident as you faced them one last time, softened by their teary eyes. Whispering soft words to them, you could only watch as they broke down, a tight feeling in your chest urging you to do the same.

But no, you had to be strong. For them, for yourself, for all of Teyvat. You slowly turned to the flames and monsters, holding up your weapon, screaming one last battle cry as you let your weapon lead your actions. As you let death become your only objective in a flurry to protect your partner.

“We would even have to say goodbye.”

Sobs wretched out of their throat as they watched you crumble, watched you fall the ground and collapse. Till the movement of your chest came to an abrupt stop, and monsters pooled at your sides.

They were forced to watch, unable to move.

“If the world was ending you’d come over right?”

Their cries turned to whimpers, until they couldn't hear the noises that spilled form their lips. Until they didn't care. What they cared about was thrown on their battlefield, beaten and ragged, torn and broken.

Dead.

“You’d come over… right?”

_-_-_-_-_

Albedo

He takes his time, hand on the back of your neck pushing you so hard against him till he’s woozy. Memorizing the feel of your plush lips against his, molding them into memory with every kiss. He’ll break away from your lips, pressing soft pecks up your face, along your nose, to your forehead. Infatuated with the way your hands gently hold his face, careful, delicate. He doesnt want to let you go, and with one final peck right between your eyes, he’ll close his eyes, whispering a goodbye as you leave. He doesnt open them when you die, he doesnt open them when the monsters reach him. No, he dies in your embrace, even if its not real.

Barbara

Desperate, oh so desperate. She doesnt know what to do with you when you press your hands to her face, tearful. You’ll have to be the one to initiate the kiss, muffling her cries with a short lived sweetness between the two of you. She’ll have her hands all over you, unsure of how to hold you, how to press you against her. She wants to stay like this forever, and even if her kisses are sloppy and messy, she’s crying too much to notice. She won’t break away, you’ll have to tug your way out of her grip and press one last kiss to her forehead. Her voice is angelic, even when she cries. You remind yourself that this is what you’re protecting as you enter the battlefield, giving it your all.

Beidou

Oh she knows, knows how this will play out. The kisses shared between the two of you are strong and compassionate, its more intense than any other kiss you’ve both shared before. Because she knows. She knows what’ll become of you and her, that this is the last kiss she’ll share with you, that there's nothing she can do about it. She lets herself indulge in you, her strong hold on you never letting go until you vocally ask her to let you go. You make her promises she knows you can't keep, but simply smiles, telling you to come back to her.

Bennett

Awkward, his hands will grab your shoulders when you approach him, pressing for a kiss immediately. He misses his mark, accidentally pressing his lips to the edge of your lips, noses bumping against each other as he tries to shift his face. You chuckle, holding his face as you adjust the angle, till you can fully reach his lips and press him against you. Like Barbara, he’ll cry, letting himself melt into you. He doesnt resist when you back away, whispering to him. Just sitting there he’ll cry, sob through it all, vision blurry with tears. But its better that way, he can picture you better when everything is fuzzy.

Chongyun

Everything was smoldering hot, too much for Chongyun who has so much yang energy trapped in him. He’s going through one of his rushes when you get to him, eager to tuck you into his arms. His kisses are sporadic, like he’s trying to kiss you but he cant. Like no matter how much his lips meet yours, it isnt enough. He wants more, he wants the promise of your forever embrace ingrained in his head. And when you break away, he’s left empty, the kisses he’d given you the only warmth on his lips. Suddenly everything was cold, so cold, and he only wished for you.

Diluc

Too rough, mashing your lips against his until you couldn't breath. Dizzy with the lack of oxygen, he didn't stop. You were ‘his,' right here right now, no one could take you away from him. You belonged alongside him, crouched in front of him, pressed into his arms where he could keep you safe. He wouldn't let you go, strong arms pulling you to his chest so firmly that you couldn't escape. He wanted to be selfish, he let himself indulge in the promise to himself that you weren't going anywhere. You’ll have to physically break out yourself, pressing back his hands as he tries to make a grab for you, tears brimming.

Eula

You were her everything, and she’ll tell you it through her kisses. She’ll run her hands along the curve of your back, holding you tenderly against her. She doesn't wish for vengeance for all the soft kisses you’ve stolen from her good days long ago, no, she’s willing to forgive you for everything as long as you’ll ‘stay.’ She promises that in all honesty, she loves everything about you, even if she denies it sometimes. And when you leave, she tells you to come back. That its the one and only thing she’ll hold against you if you don't.

Kazuha

Soft, so incredibly sensual with every touch. Kazuha was always filled with words, filled with lovely compositions made for you and only you. But now, he couldn't think of anything, no haiku he’d written in the past that compared to what he felt right now. Metaphors and hidden meanings couldn't compare to the raw pulsing throb he felt in his chest. “I love you,” he whispered, plain and simple. It held so much affection, he was afraid even those words weren't enough to express what he felt, but he settled with it either way. “I love you,” he repeated, brushing your lips against his before he said it again. “I love you.” He said it again, even as you left, entering the battlefield. He didn't stop saying it, not when he saw the monsters take you, not when they approached him with the promise of death. “I love you.”

Kaeya

He doesnt kiss you, because kisses to Kaeya are a sort of affection that brings the sense of normalcy. He likes the way your lips feel against his, but holding you against him is more special. He doesnt depend on kisses to express what he feels, instead pushing your head to his chest, sighing when your own arms come to wrap around him. No kisses, no touches, just you and him. Offering each other your last shreds of hope, because in the end, you only need each other.

Ayaka

“Look at me.” Her hand cups your cheeks just as you do to her. Now you both simply stare into each others eyes, love and adoration filling hers. She loves you, oh she loves you so much. But she understands duty better than anyone, the urge to protect you almost consuming her. When she kisses you, its soft, butterfly kisses. She doesn't rely on the contact to keep her grounded, no holding your face is a gift enough for her. To stare at you, even for one last time, is all she needs. You’ve given her so much, she would follow you to the ends of the world if you asked her to, and that's why it hurts her so much to watch you fall. She closes her eyes, noticing that she’d follow soon after and perhaps see you in the afterlife. No, she would, that's a promise she makes to herself.

Ningguang

Ningguang has delt with loss before, the concept isnt foreign to her. But you… you’re more than the jade chamber, more than any possession she has. You’re precious, like she sold a piece of her heart to you that she could never gain back. You took it from her, and you plan to take it with you to the battlefield. All she can do is press her lips against yours. Kiss you and the world beside you both becomes meaningless, until air becomes a chore instead of a necessity. Because without air she'd kiss you forever.

Childe

Details, in the case that Childe himself cant fight alongside you, he’ll hold you and repeat the details in his head. The way his hand feels on your hair, how soft or rough your lips are against his. How you fit against him, how badass you look out in the battlefield. He won’t stop you from leaving him, because he knows that if this case was reversed, he’d want you to let him go too. So he presses intimate kisses, slow ones that dont consist of a fight for dominance like they usually do. No, he wants to tell you how much he loves you, one last time.

Venti

He doesnt know what to do, pressed against you firmly. He presses soft kisses, but theres no emotion, he doesn't know how to express himself here. He’s lost a lot, lost so much in his existence, but nothing prepared him for this. Only after a kisses will he ask to cry, and when you tell him yes he’ll press his head against your shoulder. He’ll sob, hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as he does so. And then he kisses you while tears stream down his face, mashes your lips against his until his face grows numb. And he’ll continue to feel numb when you leave, when you die, when he dies.

Xiao

He doesn't know what to do, Xiao has never felt so utterly useless when you crouch to him. Form battered and bruised, when you embrace him he feels whole again. You’re his world, he doesn't care about the blazing inferno just beside you, the monsters that threaten all of Teyvat. You are his everything, what he strives to protect and keep safe. Kisses with him are breathless, both of you passionately pulling each other closer. He cant get enough of you, he wants all of you, every single piece. Molded into his embrace until you cant get out. When you break away, he tries to pull you to him, but he finds himself only able to move in the slightest. But Xiao is a protector, he is ‘your’ protector. He follows you as you head to the battlefield, dragging his limp body in a crawl to get closer. He doesn't stop when he sees the monsters overtake you, no, he continues. Just until he reaches your body, grabbing you and holding your corpse into his chest. He numbs out the monsters that attack him, knowing sullenly that he's going to die. But death doesn't seem so bad, not beside you.

Zhongli

As someone who always has control over the situation, Zhongli will be able to adapt quickly. But he doesnt want you to suffer, admiring you for being so strong when everything presses against you. He wishes to relieve the weight if only a little bit with a few kisses. Sensual and intimate, he wants to support you, and if he cant do it on the battlefield he’ll do it right here. Hold you close and promise you that he’ll always be there for you. Only after you die does he allow himself to cry, not wanting to have burdened you with his tears.

[tangledinmdzs]

hellooooooooo!!!!!!!!! So, I was wondering if you could do an idol au for the juniors? Like they're the idols, and the reader catches their eye at a fansign or some event or maybe even a coffee shop, if they're lucky lol. Thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuu ilysm

 hi there!

this is so cute, i would love to write this request for you.

cheers

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Lan Sizhui

when Sizhui’s eyes land on you, for a spilt second, he’s rendered speechless

more so than his quiet, shy persona, that most of the fans had dubbed him

‘bun boy’, ‘little bunny’ and other variants of that, considering his natural docile and shy personality

but when he sees you, well

it makes him shy for a whole different reason

because you’re so, absolutely so pretty

and it makes him a little bit unbalanced with how it is, because you’re so beautiful in a way that he doesn’t get to see very often

with how long he’s been in the industry

you’re a normal person,

and you are beautiful

“i can’t believe i’m finally meeting you, you’re...i’ve been following your band since debut” you trip over your words,

but Sizhui just finds it enamoring,

he stutters out a word of thanks, signing quietly as his brain racks for other words, other phrases, anything to continue to keep the conversation going

“you all have come so far. i’m so proud of all your achievements and just how much you’ve grown,”

“especially you, my bias,”

you drop that on him paired with a bombshell smile and Sizhui’s redness is tinted on his cheeks (and all over his ears)

he hopes the fan sites don’t catch on to that

much too soon you’ve moved down the table to the rest of his bandmates

and even though more fans come to greet and chat with him,

his eyes can’t stay help 

but follow you 

Lan Jingyi

the concert hall moves with the bass and the music of the band

Jingyi sings his heart out on stage

like he was born to do

him and his band members do their fan service during breaks and perform their sexy concepts during showtime

and the performances never end

because they have to bring the best (and only the best) for their fans

so when the latest of the night almost breaks into dawn

Jingyi finally feels his breath slow down as the end of the concert dwindles down

he loves his fans, every single one of them

which is why he loves their band ritual every concert

that being throwing a part of their outfit out into the crowd

Jingyi’s light sweater tonight is a custom knit with the band’s logo on the back 

it had been comfy when he had worn it to perform and it was probably soaked in his sweat

but he guesses somebody out there in the crowd of 50,000 was going to love it

when he throws it out into the crowd, it kind of scares him the way that the people create a physical wave to try and get the item 

he’s worried that the fans might hurt each other or themselves

but before he can notify security, Jingyi catches his sweater break out from the crowd, held by one small thin hand

you smile a wide, happy smile as you wave the sweater back to him, like a trophy

Jingyi smiles back, happy to have made someone happy

you wear the sweater immediately, either to keep you warm or to show it off or both

Jingyi doesn’t stand at the edge of the stage much longer

but he has to admit

that the sweater looks good on you

Jin Ling

“who am I signing this too?” Jin Ling asks, a little mindlessly, a little busy

and yes, Jin Ling loves his fans,

knows how important they are 

and how they supported his career and gave him the momentum to reach the heights that he currently was at now

but he had had a long night at the studio previously

and was still a little sleep deprived from the past week’s compositions and music video work

so it takes him a second to really register the name

and another second to realize that he doesn’t register it at all (above the din of the chattering and shouts of the fan signing event)

“y/n”

Jin Ling looks up from signing your album, his sharpie stilling on the glossy sheen of the packaging

Jin Ling blinks, a little awed by your voice, a lot surprised by your face

you’re not part of the typical audience that he sees

where most reign from people in their early 40s, maybe into the late 70s,

(Jin Ling was a classical violinist and the demographic that listened to his work was a bit more old for lack of a better word)

you were a lot younger,

a lot closer to his age

“i’m really honored to be meeting you now. i’ve always loved all of your compositions,” you beam at him, glancing down at his classical album and then back up to him

your small words of encouragement give him enough energy to sign your name with a heart and treble clef, 

he smiles a small smile at you, wishes that he smiled wider before you’re off of the line and the next fan steps up 

as he’s signing for the next person, a sweet old lady, he wishes that he’d kept up a longer conversation

maybe he could have gotten a number with your name

Ouyang Zizhen

when Zizhen sees you, for a sudden, small moment, he wishes that he wasn’t famous

because if he wasn’t so well known

with so many agents

rules,

opinions

to account for beside his own

than he could simply walk up to you standing by the counter of the cafe

could start a conversation without the worries of who saw,

heard,

thought

just what the two of you wanted to think

and perhaps, you could go somewhere together after realizing that you both have the same taste in coffee

and Zizhen could learn how your hair looks when sunlight hits it just right

“oh my gosh? is that...that’s him! from Untamed Boys!” 

and the comments halts his daydreams, his thoughts, his wonders almost instantaneously

makes him itch to fix his mask higher on his face, even though that would make it obvious

Zizhen thanks the worker that makes his coffee by the counter,

and can’t even spare a single goodbye gaze at you

as he rushes out of the cafe

at the counter you sip at your coffee

unknowing of the daydream that you had been part of

the longing you had unintentionally caused

[chelsfic]

Leftovers - Part 12/12 - Nandor the Relentless x Female Reader Fanfic

For Previous Parts: WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: The reader shares her last night alive with her new family.

A/N: I realized as I was writing this that this whole fic could really be read as an elongated metaphor for my falling in love with this show and this fandom. I hope you guys like this ending and aren’t disappointed. 

Warnings: Angst, Emotions, Crack humor, Turning into a vampire

---

It’s an hour after sunset and you can hear your housemates stirring. You’re still lying in bed. The ceiling overhead is cracked and peeling in places. You suppose this probably won’t be your bedroom for much longer. Nandor will want you to move into his crypt. Will you have your own coffin? Or will he want to keep sharing? How does one even purchase a coffin for...personal use?

You know you’re stalling. Nandor is being uncharacteristically patient, but he won’t wait all night. You’re not afraid. Okay, you’re afraid. But, you’d be stupid not to be. You saw Guillermo during his transition. He looked like hell for about three whole days. But you know Nandor will take care of you. Well, strike that. You know Nandor will try to take care of you and if he fails, Nadja and Guillermo will be there. 

The night you met...the night you almost became a meal...was your birthday. So much has happened since then. You’ve been kept prisoner, fed upon, attacked, hurt. You’ve also fallen in love with every vampire in this crazy house, even Colin Robinson, bless his heart. Nandor and his bizarre mix of vicious lust and achingly sweet softness has somehow pulled you into this world, into a place you’ve always belonged without even knowing it. So, yeah, you’re afraid. But the idea of not spending every night for the rest of eternity surrounded by these beautiful, damaged, stupid idiots is even more frightening.

A knock comes at your door and Nadja’s voice trills, “Hello, human? May I come in?”

You roll onto your side and sit up, dangling your bare legs over the edge of the bed. You’re wearing one of your few dresses because...well, because you’re going to die tonight and shouldn’t you dress up a little?

Nadja slips inside looking resplendent and deadly as always. She gives you a sympathetic smile and comes to sit next to you.

“Feeling a little nervous about our unholy transition, are we?” she ducks her head and gives you that mama-vampire-knows-best look of hers.

You lean your shoulder into hers, taking comfort in her presence.

“Maybe a little…” you admit. “I’m not having second thoughts or anything it’s just…”

“A little spooky wooky, yes?” Nadja supplies. She wraps her arm around your back and pulls you closer. “Don’t concern your head off, darling. I don’t know if you realize this but I am considered a bit of an expert. I’ve turned many, many humans in my time. Including my dear Laszlo. I’ll make sure Nandor does not slip up and accidentally make you into a zombie monstrosity like my poor Topher.”

You rear back and stare at Nadja with horror stricken eyes, “That’s a possibility!??”

Nadja chuckles and tweaks your nose, “I am giving you sarcasm! To lighten the mood! It’s working, yes?”

You let out a long-suffering sigh that hiccups into nervous laughter.

“I love you, Nadja,” you say with sudden, overwhelming emotion. You dive forward and wrap your arms around her in a fierce hug.

Nadja is stricken for a moment and she pats your back gingerly, “That’s...very nice. You think you want to come downstairs now? Because Nandor is being a real donkey dick down there waiting for you, but his balls are too shriveled to come up here and get you himself.”

You laugh and pull back from the hug, wiping tears from your eyes, “Yeah, let’s go. I’m ready.”

---

“SURPRISE!” 

“HAPPY DEATHDAY!”

“SMASHLEY’S IN DA HOUSE!”

“What’s crack-a-lackin’?”

Nandor looks supremely put out when everyone yells something different as you walk through the door to the fancy room. Does no one listen to him? They had an agreed upon plan! He scowls at at the other vampires, especially fucking Colin Robinson, before sweeping over toward you and taking you from Nadja’s arm.

“Welcome to your Death Day Party! Do you like it?” Nandor looks down at you with those wide, sparkling eyes that make you forget he’s a centuries old blood-sucking fiend who once conquered nations and slaughtered thousands. 

You take in your surroundings with a look of wonder. There’s a giant glitter banner hanging above the fireplace that reads “Congratulations on your Dark Awakening.” You recognize it as Nandor’s handiwork at once. Also, Guillermo has obviously been to Party City because everyone is wearing pointed birthday hats with little Dracula emojis all over them and the whole room is absolutely covered in crepe paper. 

“It’s...so cute!” you squeal, grabbing him around the middle in an enthusiastic hug. This is...just want you needed. A little goofy, human levity before stepping off the edge of the unknown. Your eyes continue wandering over the room until they fall upon a long table set up against the wall. “Oh...my g--gahhhh--is that mac and cheese?”

The table is covered in dish after dish of all your favorite comfort foods. Macaroni and cheese, pizza, lasagna. Apple pie, blueberry pie, cherry pie! There’s a whole giant bowl of Reese’s peanut butter cups. You pull away from Nandor and dash across the room, launching yourself into Guillermo’s arms.

“You’re the sweetest monster I’ve ever known!” you cry, doing your best to squeeze the unlife out of him.

Guillermo laughs, “Listen, you’re going to be puking for days either way. You might as well have one last chance to enjoy human food.”

You roll your eyes, “Thanks for the reminder, Memo.”

“Alrighty!” Nandor is suddenly picking you up from behind and plucking you out of Guillermo’s arms. “That’s enough of that. Why don’t you have some of this--” he turns his head away from you and gags “--yummy food and then we’ll listen to some human musical arrangements that Nadja and Laszlo have prepared.”

Nandor hovers at your side, watching with a wrinkled nose as you pile food onto your plate. You’ve barely made a dent in the impressive spread and you’re feeling guilty about the waste when Colin Robinson ambles up.

“So, nervous about Nandor draining all your blood and killing you tonight?” he asks breezily.

You ignore the question and instead ask one of your own, “Hey, you think you can bring some of the leftovers into your office tomorrow? I’d hate to waste all this…”

Colin’s face lights with a maniacal grin, “Barbara’s on a diet...Yeah...this will be perfect!”

You settle onto one of the couches, sandwiched between Guillermo and Nandor. Both vampires look vaguely nauseated as you tuck into your food, but they’re holding it together.

Laszlo stands up with Nadja and starts strumming a guitar as he addresses everyone, “When I first met our human I assumed she’d soon be fertilizing my vulva garden--”

Nadja slaps his arm and Nandor hisses indignantly.

“But! But!” Laszlo continues, bowing with a flourish in your direction. “I came to realize that this particular human was something special. I decided to accept her into the fold. Mostly because she kept Nandor off my back and also my wife threatened to maim my testicles if I ate her…

“So, here we are, human. The last night of your life and we’ve got just one thing to say…”

The couple launches into a screeching, cloying rendition of “(I’ve had) The Time of my Life” from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack (blatantly stolen from Laszlo’s catalogue of compositions). Your face is frozen in horrified laughter and you flick your gaze to Guillermo’s to see that he’s covering his mouth to stifle his own laughs. On your other side, Nandor is clapping along and bobbing his head with the music. Yup, this is your tribe.

The party goes on for another couple hours. Laszlo and Nadja perform several more “hits” before finishing up with “The Girl in the Village with the Very Small Foot.” Nadja’s singing voice is still ringing in your ears when Nandor bends down to whisper, “It’s time, my human.”

The levity of the party has done a lot to calm your nerves, but you can’t help the sudden grip of anxiety around your throat at his words. You look up, falling, once again, into the fathomless depths of his lovely, dark eyes and you think, That’s what this is. You’re going to live in that deep, dark beauty from now on. There’s nothing scary about that. 

You both stand up to leave and say your goodbyes. Laszlo and Colin wish you luck. Guillermo hugs you and presses several quick kisses to your cheeks as Nandor murmurs warningly, “Watch it!”

When he releases you, you’re suddenly engulfed in the arms of a crying Nadja.

“I do love you, you magnificent, ruthless baby!” she sobs. “Nandor, if you fuck this up I’m going to make a hat out of your asshole.”

You laugh into her shoulder and Nandor complains, “Yeesh! Alright, calm down, Nadja!”

By the time you’ve pried yourself from Nadja’s grip you’ve joined her in crying and your face is soaked. Who knew vampires could be so sentimental?

Nandor grimaces in distaste as he brings his hands up to wipe away the tears.

“Ready!?”

---

Nandor’s crypt looks just as it always does. No crepe paper or glitter in sight. Just the warm glow of candles, the rich red and gold accents of the decor, and the solid familiar bulk of the coffin where you’ve spent so many nights wrapped in his protective embrace. He leads you over to the chaise lounge and you both sit, fidgeting nervously and darting shy glances at one another.

Nandor plucks at the fabric of your dress, “This is nice.”

You smile faintly, “Thanks, I--I thought maybe I should dress up for the occasion. Is that stupid? I guess it’ll just get stained…”

“No,” Nandor cuts in, looking earnest and serious. “No, I’ll be careful.”

You nod and fall silent again. The knowledge of what you’re about to do seems to hang like a thick curtain between you. The easy intimacy that you’ve shared is strained with the gravity of what is to come. Nandor finally huffs out an exasperated sigh and pulls you into his lap. At first you think he’s just going to bite the bullet, so to speak, and dig into your neck at once. But instead he grabs your face and pulls you into a searing, all-consuming kiss. 

He tangles his fingers in your hair, pushing his tongue into your mouth with a low groan. You stroke your hands down the long column of his throat, running them across his broad shoulders and down his back. How this man--this perfectly imperfect, wonderfully fragile, fierce warrior man--has come to choose you, you can’t begin to understand. For countless other human souls, catching the eye of Nandor the Relentless has meant grim misfortune. For you, finding yourself the prey of a murderous vampire is the best thing that’s ever happened in your life. 

Except maybe being MVP at last year’s championship bout.

Nandor’s lips fall away and he looks up at you, panting heavily with his hair mussed and tangled. His gaze flicks down to your exposed throat and you see him swallow in anticipation. He reaches for something on an end table and shows you the stainless steel travel mug containing his blood. You take it from him noting the strip of masking tape on the lid with Nandor’s elegant scrawl--his name and the date.

You snort, setting the container down on the cushions beside you and looking back up at Nandor.

“Prepare yourself, my mortal,” he growls, fangs elongating and eyes flashing with a predatory gleam. 

You turn your head, baring your neck for your vampire boyfriend, and answering lightly, “I have a name, you know.”

---

THE END

A/N: Hey, thank you so so so much to everyone who read and supported this fic from the beginning! Your comments and encouragement mean the world to me!

Tags:

@festering-queen, @kandomeresbitch, @strangestdiary, @glitterportrait, @scuzmunkie, @redwoodshadows, @sarasxe, @rileyomalley 

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [4]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Warning: Suggestive

↳  Word count: 4,556

↳  Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | You Are Here! | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THURSDAY - 4

The next day, you quickly went onto Blackboard and finished your online class final as soon as you woke up. Tired and a little grumpy, you were happy that Rhiannon had already left the house for her lab, leaving you with a full range of the tea kettle and whatever cereals you had left in the cabinet. You suppose you should go grocery shopping on the weekend.

You have some music playing through your phone as you go through the motions of your morning, brushing your teeth and hair, dusting on the tiniest bit of makeup and a swipe of lip balm to your lips. When it comes time to choose an outfit, you slip on a pair of shortalls and a white Star Wars shirt that Rhiannon had bought you for your birthday last year. 

It almost felt like a dream to be where you are right now, to be going out and getting your first real taste of business, what it would be like to go out in the world and have people pay you for your work. All of it was happening because you met your soulmate.

You looked at your hands, scars still ever-present. They'd be there forever, and not long ago you had detested the idea of ever having them. Even to the point of making Mark afraid to speak to you about it, and a twinge in your chest came with a sudden feeling of guilt.

You had been in love with Mark for a long time, as much as any fan of his would say, maybe more. Finding out that he was truly meant for you was beginning to chip away at the bitterness you had acquired growing up. Maybe you still had some doubt for all of this, as things would actually still work out when he left to go back to Korea, but being around him felt like all of your aversions wouldn't matter one day. 

Letting go of the nerves living inside of you was difficult, but you managed to clench your hands and smile. This was all a part of your dream. Perhaps one day you would be able to look on your body and not think back on your life before. Thinking positively from now on was your goal. With that, you grabbed your camera and your bag, heading out the door.

On the subway, you listened to your playlist, a shuffled mix of your favourite songs. You zoned out until you reached your stop, wandering about the station and grabbing a candy bar on your way out. The morning itself was still but the rush of subway trains and people in a hurry created wind currents that caused you to need to smooth out your hair constantly on the way to your destination. 

As soon as you enter High Park, any grumpy fatigue you had been harbouring since waking up melted away. The sheer beauty of the park always managed to awaken the artist within you, whether it be filling up your camera with photos of trees and the cherry blossom petals in the spring; amber, red and brown leaves in the fall and the snow-capped branches in winter, or just doodling people in your sketchbook while sitting against a tree after class. It was one of your favourite places to be. 

You sat against a cherry tree by the path you and Mark walked on together, letting small petals of cherry blossoms to float down and land on your hair. You gripped your camera tightly and aimed it without thinking, capturing the emptiness of the park that surely wouldn't last forever.

Sometimes you had thought about wandering so far out into the wilderness where you wouldn't see any other people or man-made objects as far as your eye could see. Then, you could take photos of the beauty the planet has to offer while breathing untainted air and feeling fresh wind on your face. 

Just then as you closed your eyes to imagine it, a small breeze grazed your cheek. The warmth of the sun washed over you and it nearly made you want to take a nap right there on the grass. The day already feels so wonderful, and there was only one thing missing to make it perfect. 

"(Y/N)!"

Your eyes flutter open as Mark runs up to you. He's accompanied by the small crowd that are his bandmates, all walking along the path all at their own pace. Mark reaches you and sits down on the grass next to you. 

"Hi, Mark," you greet him with a blush, watching him as he plucks a cherry blossom petal from your hair. 

"You look lovely," he comments with a shy smile. "You haven't been waiting long, right?"

You smile warmly at him. "No, don't worry."

Mark grinned back at you. "I'm happy the weather cooperated with us," he remarks, taking a moment to look up at the blue sky, dotted with two or three wispy white clouds. "It's a beautiful day." 

"Yeah," this time, instead of looking back up at the sky, you're looking at Mark. It's fleeting, knowing he was so close to you that you could touch him. The way his profile is when he's looking up at the sky with a wondrous smile makes you want to take a million photos, but you hold back as you notice everyone else approaching. 

Everyone in the group greets you, giving you a hug and smiling as you do your best to introduce yourself in Korean. Most of the boys assure you that they can understand basic English and not to worry about the language difference. 

You're nervous, of course, to meet your favourite artists in person, especially all at once. In real life, they're all so tall and in some ways, it just feels so different than you imagined to interact with them. 

There are little bits of conversation occurring as you all wait for Rhiannon, Donghyuck insisting that they all stay put to make sure she can find you. You're smiling brightly when you notice he's constantly on the watch for her, making you wonder if she would experience a similar situation to yours. He's speaking fondly of her to you as best he can, which makes your heart flip - knowing how happy she'd be if you told her about it.

There is maybe another ten minutes of discussing what all the boys want, background, poses, angles and composition when Donghyuck's small smile grows into a giant grin. He's waving at someone who is approaching from the distance, who stops in their tracks once they look up from the ground. 

You take Mark's hand and squeeze it. "Come on," 

Everyone follows your lead, approaching your best friend. Rhiannon is clearly frazzled from a long lab, her hair in a messy ponytail, but she's dressed in a pretty, long black and white striped jumper and black heels accompanied by her large black purse that probably had her school uniform in it.

Once you get closer you wave at her, her returning wave much more subtle. She's covering her mouth with her other hand, and once you all reach her, you can tell she's crying. 

All the boys are a little frazzled, but you know that they all mean well. She probably wasn't the only person to nearly faint when meeting them.

"안녕하세요," she manages to stutter through her hand. You're smiling at her, beckoning her to join the group, but she doesn't move. 

The other boys are quietly complimenting her on her pronunciation and making comments to themselves, Johnny leaning toward you to ask if she's okay, but you're more focused on watching this all unfold. Mark nudges you with his elbow.

"Here, watch this." He steps up to Donghyuck and whispers in his ear, gripping the younger boys' shoulders and full on shoving him in Rhiannon's direction.

Donghyuck says a few startled words in Korean, none that you can really catch, holding out his hands and bracing for a fall. His grip lands on Rhiannon's shoulders and she is barely able to catch him by placing her hands on his chest.

Both of them yelp in surprise, the other boys watching and laughing warmly to themselves. Eventually, the two of them settle into a proper hug, Rhiannon shoving her tear-ridden face into Donghyuck's shoulder. 

Mark wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your cheek, grinning mischievously. "I hope they're soulmates," he says, quiet enough that only you can hear it. 

"I hope so too." 

Rhiannon can barely keep herself composed as all the other members give her a greeting hug once they all manage to peel her and Donghyuck off of each other. She showers them in stuttered compliments and praises, all phrases you have heard her planning to say months ago while the two of you were discussing what you would say to your idols if you ever met them. 

It's an emotional moment, and it makes you all the more motivated to spend the day making your task absolutely perfect. Just one photo. 

You could have laughed at yourself. 'One photo', Johnny and Jaehyun had specified when you first met them. Like that was ever going to happen. In one take, Donghyuck had coughed and caused motion blur, another where Johnny's eyes were closed, Jaehyun's eyes were both somehow blocked at the same time by cherry blossom petals, and one more where Yuta stepped back and lost his balance on a large rock a child had kicked towards him while he was passing by. 

Through Taeyong's insistence of a perfect photo and tiny bits of life getting in the way, you felt as if taking one photo for NCT127 was going to be the longest photo shoot of your career that hadn't even started yet. You all were laughing and smiling through it, which made the experience fun and enjoyable, even though there were so many things to consider. 

Click. 

Your smile was wide as you went back into your camera to look at the preview of the last photo you've taken. All the boys come out from their poses to gather around you and Rhiannon, each of them scrambling to get a good look at the tiny preview screen on your camera. 

"I think this is the one," you confidently say. 

Everyone is posed happily at the edge of the old cobblestone path, in between two cherry trees that were shedding cherry blossom petals, all of which were perfectly captured floating through the picture, none of them obscuring any faces. Everyone was smiling, had open eyes, and each part of the photo was clear and crisp. You even managed to think that you maybe didn't need to touch it up in photoshop at all. Even the lighting was nearly perfect. 

"This is the one," Jungwoo agrees with you, after managing to push Taeil aside long enough to have a direct look at the camera. 

"I think so too," Mark chimes in next to you. "You're amazing." 

You're going red in the face as most of the boys begin to agree with you. Once you have your personal space back, you're able to turn off your camera and place it securely in your bag. 

"Let's go for ice cream!" Doyoung suggests, and everyone else immediately agreed. 

Spending time with all of the members of 127 and Rhiannon didn't really feel as crowded as you thought it would be. Of course, in reality, it was - especially at the small ice cream cafe you all ended up in - taking up two whole booths. 

It all felt real and like a dream at the same time, genuinely spending time with them and talking, being friendly. The day wasted away as you all explored the city, wandering into random stores and picking out little trinkets as souvenirs. At times you would pull out your camera to take more photos, the day's progression adding to your different collections of lighting and atmosphere. 

Eventually, you all had dinner together, splitting the cost of a giant order of homemade pasta at the St Lawrence market, piling onto the picnic tables on the lower floor and sharing a quiet few moments as the sun set on another day. 

“So, (Y/N), what made you a fan?” Jaehyun is smiling at you, eyes switching between looking at you and Jungwoo who is sitting on your right, shovelling his pasta in his mouth. You don’t even think he’s chewing it. 

“Rhiannon,” you say flatly. Rhiannon kicks your shin quickly after, she’s sitting in between Donghyuck and Jaehyun, smiling innocently. “Ow! Well, uhm, we were in high school at the time when she became a k-pop fan, and immediately tried to pull me down the rabbit hole as well. I was reluctant for a while, but eventually, I gave in. When I started exploring on my own, I saw your Firetruck music video and… well, the rest is history.”

Mark, who is sitting on your left, is grinning at you. “What’s your favourite song by us?” He asks and soon turns his attention to Rhiannon.

“Which subgroup?” She asks excitedly. “I can name one for each, so can (Y/N).”

You sheepishly nod. “All of them,” Johnny quickly chimes in, picking slowly at his own food.

“Well, it’s always been tough for me to decide but Boss is my favourite U song, Touch is my favourite 127 song, GO is my favourite Dream song and since WayV made a debut a little while ago with Regular, that’s my favourite by them so far.” You answer sheepishly, and Mark’s grinning at you. It’s probably because he’s involved with 99% of those songs. 

“And yours?” Donghyuck is looking at Rhiannon expectantly. His accent is thick and you find it very endearing that he’s doing his best to speak English. 

Rhiannon hummed, a grin spread over her face. “BOSS by NCTU, Whiplash by NCT127, We Young by NCTDREAM, and I really like the teaser video music for WayV’s debut.” 

Donghyuck’s smile widens to a grin, “We hot,” “And we young!” Rhiannon, Mark and Donghyuck all sing in unison, which causes everyone else to start laughing. 

Jungwoo finishes off most of his plate and hums as if he wants to ask a question. You give him your attention and he asks a question in Korean, but you can’t quite understand it. Before Mark can open his mouth to translate with a blush, Rhiannon does it first. “He wants to know who your favourite member was before Mark,” she says, grinning mischievously at you. 

Your face goes beet red as you not so subtly look over at Johnny. He is looking between you and Mark, the latter immediately wraps an arm protectively around your shoulders. “Uhm… well, I really liked Johnny at first. I had a really big crush on him. Then Mark became my bias,” you’re looking at Johnny sheepishly, who is smiling sweetly at you.

Doyoung then chimes in, also speaking Korean, which Rhiannon translates to “now you’re making it awkward!” 

The conversation continued in Korean, Johnny putting his hands up defensively and also turning beet red as Mark starts speaking, and everything is going so fast even Rhiannon can’t seem to translate it besides “Yeah, they’re arguing”. Meanwhile, you’re trying to eat your food and not react to the whole thing. 

It takes a little while for everything to calm down, and at that point, you’re staring at Rhiannon who just shrugs at you. You’re awkwardly scraping sauce from the bottom of your dish as someone finally speaks up again, Mark tightening his grip protectively around you. “What made you so good at Korean, Rhiannon?” It’s Johnny, who is doing his best to not make eye contact with Mark, who you guess is still a little heated from that argument that ended not three minutes ago. 

“Well,” Rhiannon starts shyly. “A lot of Korean TV shows and a couple of friends from live streams I watch.”

“It’s impressive, you should keep practising,” Mark praises with a smile. 

"Thank you," Rhiannon is now also red in the face, grinning like an idiot.

"When are your birthdays?" Jungwoo is wiping his sauce-drenched face with a napkin, his accent thick. He's endearing, you think.

"Mine's July fifteenth, ninety-eight," you answer shyly, a little nervous to see their reactions, learning that you're older than Mark. 

Donghyuck's eyes widen for a moment as he nearly shouts "Noona!" In your direction, making you fully hide your face in your hands. 

"Your birthday is close to mine," Taeyong finally speaks up, and Mark rubs your shoulder gently to keep you from hiding your face. "Mine is July first."

"Mine's October twenty-fifth, ninety-eight," Rhiannon chimes in. 

Donghyuck is almost equally surprised to learn this, but this time he's quieter. He still says "noona," while looking Rhiannon straight in the eye as she goes beet red and looks away from him.

"We are birthday buddies!" Yuta exclaims, grinning wildly and still holding a fork full of pasta that is slowly slipping off the utensil. "Mine is October twenty-sixth!" 

This brings Rhiannon back from being shy. She brightens up, smiling over at Yuta who flashes her a big thumbs up - "we should celebrate together!" The conversation picks back up and once again begins to wildly veer from topic to topic. 

Once everyone finished their food, you all walked around the lower levels, stopping at another shop full of Canada themed trinkets and souvenirs. Mark ended up buying a hilarious red and black plaid onesie, the butt of the pyjamas was removable and had a bear on it. Donghyuck bought a stuffed moose and the others bought a variety of shirts and maple flavoured treats. You ended up buying a stuffed animal yourself, a soft polar bear, an idea mind for it. However, you weren't sure you would be brave enough to ask Mark about it. 

Not noticing the time seemed to be the growing trend these past few days, as when you all clamour out of the bottom floor of the market, it had gotten dark and the place was about to close for the night. All of you headed to the subway together, chatting and forgetting about life outside the day.

Mark held you close, an arm wrapped securely around your waist. "Can I walk you to your dorm?" 

"Don't you think you should just go back with the guys?" You ask. "The subway is really expensive…"

Mark smiled and shook his head. "It's okay, we have special passes for when we're here. I just want to spend more time with you."

Your heart melted and you nearly teared up. "I want to spend more time with you too." 

Mark grinned and held you a little closer as you walked. He was warm, and you wouldn't admit it out loud, but your entire body was screaming. You wanted to hold him forever. 

You all separated at the subway station, the boys taking the opposite train. Rhiannon and Donghyuck had their own little moment before he left as their train arrived. They talked in Korean a few feet away from the crowd of boys and a little further away from where you and Mark were standing. It was sweet, watching them intentionally hug this time, holding hands until the last moment when the train was about to close its doors. 

Donghyuck wanted to walk to the dorm as well, but Taeyong remarked that Mark had already been lectured enough the past few days he had decided to stay out late. Donghyuck protested but eventually had to give in.

Mark walked the two of you home, right to the door of your apartment.

"I'll leave you two alone for a bit," Rhiannon said softly, unlocking the door and slipping inside, leaving you and Mark alone in the hallway. 

You looked up at Mark, who was returning your gaze and smiling at you warmly. "You are more beautiful every time I look at you," he says, a cheesy grin spreading across his face as he watches your reaction. 

"Mark," you're nearly laughing as you say his name, "please, you make me blush!"

"Good," he speaks softly. "I just want to make you feel the best that I can in the time that I can."

That was when it hit you. Every time you had to think about having a soulmate, you had really only thought about yourself. You inwardly chastised yourself for being so selfish - and frowned. 

"Mark, I'm sorry," you begin softly, and his expression turns to concern.

"For what? Are you okay?" He asks, hands gently cupping your cheeks.

You lean into his touch, "of course I am. I just feel terrible that all of this has happened to you so quickly. I only thought about myself when it hit me you would be leaving the day after the concert." 

Mark nodded. "I'm going to miss you," he admitted. "But I feel amazing whenever I'm with you. I want to spend as much time here with you as I can, so I can remember it. Until the next time I can see you." 

"Mark," he sighed as you said his name, "are we going to be okay?" 

Mark nodded softly. "Of course we will be. No distance, land mass or body of water is going to get between us, ever." 

"Okay," you whisper. "I trust you." You stare into Mark's eyes for a moment, his hands still gently resting on your face. He presses his forehead to yours, and your noses touch for a moment. That was when the moment both sped up and felt like it was slowing down at the same time. 

Mark presses his lips to yours softly, his hands moving past your neck and your shoulders to your hips. He's soon moving to press you up against the wall of the hallway, trapping you between it and him. His mouth moves over yours, and you feel him hum and separate you for just long enough for him to kiss you from another angle, pressing his body closer to yours.

 Your little shopping bag with your polar bear inside drops to the floor as you let go of it to place your hands on his chest. Mark groans into the kiss, backing up for a moment to look at you with hungry eyes before diving back in. 

You don't know how long he kissed you for, hands running up and down your sides, tight enough that he could probably feel your bra underneath your t-shirt. You're suddenly whimpering when he presses his knee between your legs-

"(Y/N), get your ass in here before I punch your soulmate!"

Mark releases your lips with a sheepish laugh, licking away the saliva trail between your mouths, which almost makes you faint. His face is red, blush extended past his cheeks to travel to the bridge of his nose. "Sorry," he whispers shakily, "got carried away." 

"Me too," you admit, trembling against the wall when Mark finally sets you free. "I, um-" 

"Me too," he repeats, as if he read your mind. He takes a gentle hold of your hand. "Maybe another time?" You understand what he's implying, as if your entire body isn't on fire already, you quickly nod. 

Mark lets your hand slip from his, and you can tell he is having a hard time peeling his eyes away from you so he can leave. "Mark, wait, before you go-"

"What is it?" He asks, tilting his head to the side. He's having trouble keeping eye contact, his eyes flicking constantly from yours to your lips. 

"My polar bear," you start, picking up the bag you dropped earlier. "Could you please, um… cuddle him for a while? Until you leave?"

Mark's eyebrows furrow until he realizes what you meant, his eyes drifting from your face to look at the plastic bag you're holding out to him. "Will this help you when I'm gone?" He asks, gingerly taking the bag from you.

"I hope so," you say quietly, clinging to him in one last hug. "I'll give you something of mine in exchange."

Mark returns the hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Sounds like a plan." 

You watch Mark leave, nearly breathless and a pit at the base of your throat. Thoughts ran through your head of what could have happened if you weren't interrupted, the pit running further and further down your body to rest with the butterflies in your stomach. 

Once you're finally able to go back inside, you really wish you hadn't immediately met eyes with your best friend, perched on the armrest of the couch and holding a mug of tea. Both her eyebrows are raised and a smirk is dancing on her lips.

"Were you two trying to fuck in the hallway?" She asked, taking a sip of her tea, watching you struggle to take off your shoes. 

"N-no," you stutter, trembling hands giving away that you were… most likely lying. 

Rhiannon laughed and shook her head. "Jeez. Learn to get a room," she jokes. "I'm going to bed." 

"N-night," you call as you watch her pad into her own room and shut the door, leaving you to your own thoughts. It was hard for you to keep your brain from going off the rails as you changed into your pyjamas. You considered making tea, but you figured it was probably a bad idea. Shortly after changing, showering and doing your bedtime routine you slipped under the covers of your bed.Your rampant thoughts were made all the worse when you got a text from Mark.

Mark: I'm back safe

You: good, I'm happy you're safe 

You: I'm about to go to bed

Mark: I wish I was there in bed with you 

You could have audibly gasped when you read his text. You thought for so long with your fingers hovering over the keys that you got another text from him.

Mark: I'm sorry I got so carried away in the hall. I just really wanted to touch you. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable at all

You: no of course not, I actually really liked it

Mark: you did? Oh God… now itll never leave my head 

You: I don't think it will leave mine either.. I really wish you could have stayed 

Mark: me too but I would have gotten in a lot of trouble and the concert is already tomorrow 

You: and you're leaving Saturday :(

Mark: yeah… 

You: I want to kiss you again

Mark: I want to do a lot more than that 

Your heart picks up speed and you grab your Death Star throw pillow to squeal into it. You're trembling even more as you type your reply.

You: I wish we had more time

Mark: we can make some if you come straight to the stadium after your class 

You: ok

You: I'll run

Mark: looking forward to it

Mark: Rest well okay

You: I'll do my best considering

You: You too

Mark: yeah I promise I'll try

You locked your phone and placed it on your desk next to your bed and turned over, bringing the covers over your shoulders. It was hard to concentrate on sleeping, but you eventually dozed into a dream-filled sleep. 

[fushiguromi]

soundtracks — semi eita

synopsis: during your college life, semi eita already likes you. He indirectly confessed his feelings by singing a song to you, but you didn’t realize that the song he sang was his feelings for you.

pairing: semi x fem!reader

genre: fluff; college to timeskip; band au

word count: 3.6k

a/n: all songs and lyrics that are used in this story were my own composition, so i’m sorry if it’s not good HAHAHAHHA well, i tried my best hehe

The sun is up while you grumpily walk around the quadrangle of your school. It’s a hell day for you and you’re exhausted because of the homework, quizzes, and projects that you need to accomplish within a week.

As an honor student, you don’t want to disappoint your parents. You found a bench table beside a tall tree. You sat down and you fixed your hair and wipe your sweats around your face.

This day isn’t going well for you, your favorite sweater almost got ruined by a student that almost spilled a coffee towards you.

You roamed your eyes around. Many students are on the bench tables with their friends laughing and talking.

You took out your books to review for your upcoming quiz tomorrow. You were focusing on studying the book when you heard the strumming of the guitar and a soothing beautiful voice of a man.

Looking annoyed you looked up to see who’s disturbing your study time.

A man with a guitar placed on his elevated thigh singing for his friends. His aura and his looks reminded you of the handsome heartthrob that only knows how to break hearts with just a snap of his fingers.

He was biting his lower lip while his eyes were closed. The way his fingers shifted every time he changed chords and continuously plucking the strings of his guitar amazed you and to think that what his fingers can do to you.

You shook your head immediately because of that thought.

You had seen a lot of people playing with a guitar, but no one looked so passionate and angelic as him. He was like falling in love with music with the way he played each chord to create a melodious sound.

He looked oblivious to his surroundings as he played. Like he has his world just for himself and his guitar.

Music fills the air without effort, the sound rushing in and around every person in the place. Some react to the beat, others continue in chatter.

After his performance, his friends cheered and clapped for him. He just smirked and you didn’t realize that you were smiling widely at him until he looked at you.

“Semi! Your performance was so good!” A girl with short hair said to Semi and clings her arms on his.

Was it double meaning? Wait, what the hell?

You quickly averted your eyes on him and covered your face with the book you were holding earlier.

Until that day, you didn’t see him around the campus. But after he caught your attention, you happened to keep on crossing paths with him.

The next day, you found out that their band is famous around your place because they have gigs every Friday and Saturday at the cafe & bar near your school.

You heard that there is an event that’s happening at the gym tonight, so you went there to watch the battle of the bands. This is your first time to give attention to your school’s event because all you do was to study.

You narrowed your eyes while looking at Semi. They are preparing for the event. He’s holding his guitar while talking to his bandmates.

A lot of people came to the gym to support and watch them. While you stand there, Semi scanned his eyes around and stopped when his eyes met yours.

He looked stunned for a moment but he smiled and quickly averted his eyes.

The event started and you were amazed that a lot of bands participated in this event, but Semi’s band is different than the others.

They were really into it and feels like a concert. They made the stage and crowd theirs, many students cheered for them and the judges even gave them a standing ovation.

You were just smiling and clapping the whole evening, their song covers were on point, so this is what it feels like to watch them play?

You’re doing your essay at the bench table that you found yesterday. It’s peaceful and cloudy outside so you decided to settle there.

While you were typing on your laptop, someone sits down in front of you. Your eyes caught a glimpse of a cool guitar strap and you looked up to see the man yesterday smiling at you.

“You don’t have to be intimidated,” he assured you.

He placed his guitar on the table and you saw that he was also carrying a notebook and a marker.

You stared at him while he’s writing something in his notebook. He felt your gaze on him so he looked up.

“Sorry, am I disturbing you?” He asked while tapping his foot on the ground.

“Uh, no. I’m almost finished with my essay.” You replied. He smiled and nods.

You quickly finished your essay so you can look at him.

You glanced at his handwriting. It looked pretty neat and somehow understandable. You got curious, so you quickly read what he wrote on the page.

Invisible Line

You immediately recalled the lyrics he sang yesterday to his friends and the words written on the notebook was the same lyrics.

“You wrote that song?” You asked him.

“Yes, I did.” He smiled, then turned his head on you. “Did you like it?” You felt your cheeks blushed because you remembered how wide your smile was.

Biting your lower lip, you nodded.

“I sometimes come here to think about and write songs.” He told you. “But right now, I’m having trouble getting inspiration but then I saw you...”

Your lips slightly parted. You could feel your heart beating against your chest so hard. You had crushes with boys, but you never felt this kind of feeling.

You ignore him because you don’t know what to say. He writes so fast but you had a glimpse of the lyrics he was writing.

He grabbed his guitar and placed it on his thigh. He started strumming and looked at his notebook before singing.

We’re close but never together

I have to find a way, to get her next to me

So can we close the space between us now?

The distance that we don’t need

I kept collecting shooting stars

Just to wish for us

She’s everything I need

My safe haven...

He stares at you while he sings but after a while, he closed his eyes and bobbed his head to the sound.

As you stared at him, you realized that the Creator favored him so much that he was given such an attractive look— he has messy ash blonde hair with dark tips, his eyes are brown, perfect naturally trimmed eyebrows, and chiseled jaw.

He ends the song with a beautiful instrumental sound before he opens his eyes and smiled at you.

“What do you think?” He asked you while he put his head on his arm that was on the guitar.

You’re lost for a moment before replying, “I loved it,” you smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He chuckled and nodded his head, contented.

He picks up something from his bag. He suddenly gave out his guitar pick to you.

You only stared at it. You don’t know if you will get it.

“Here, take it.” He urged you. “It’s a thank you gift.” You stared at him confused.

“For what?”

You had no idea why he was giving out his guitar pick as a thank you gift. When you just met each other!

“Thank you for being my inspiration,” he answered. You could feel your cheeks heating up.

He took your hand, laid out your palm, and put his guitar pick there. It was a white guitar pick and it looked like a pearl or marble. There were small letters written on the edge.

S.E

That’s his initials.

“Won’t you be using this?” You asked him, even if you didn’t want to return it.

“Oh, don’t worry. I still have an extra at home.” He replied.

He suddenly holds your hand. Your hand rested on his palm, while he removed the lid of his pen using his mouth. He was drawing something on his guitar pick.

You felt like losing your sanity as you stared at the pick he gave you three years ago. The small heart he drew beside his initials was still there.

You didn’t see him again after that. You tried to go out again to the bench table a few times, but you didn’t see him at all.

Every time you’re stressed or sad, you would listen to the song inside your head. You engraved it in your memory the way he sings it.

I want to cross the line for her

But fate doesn’t want me to

I’ll just stare at her from afar

Even if it hurts...

“Zero Effect’s new album becomes the new best-selling album for the alternative rock band...”

Your eyes widened and you stopped what you’re doing when you heard a very familiar voice and song. It made you feel so nostalgic.

You looked up to the monitor in front and saw the news with a music video of the song playing through the speakers of the cafe.

It’s him! After three years... you finally saw him. Even through the screen.

Your heart gone wild and beating so loudly that you thought it would break.

“Semi Eita..” You whispered his name, after reading a piece of information about him and his band. “Zero Effect...”

You didn’t know how many times you watched their music video after you got home. You couldn’t stop yourself smiling.

You decided to check their social media accounts. Zero Effect have eight hundred thousand followers and it was following all the band members' accounts.

You followed them all before stalking Semi’s account. He had over five hundred thousand followers already.

His pinned tweet was a tweet that was promoting their latest album and his recent tweet was a picture of him and his bandmates.

@ZeroEffectJP

The interview video of Zero Effect’s ‘Fading Polaroid’ album is out now!

youtube./ZEfadingpolaroid

#ZeroEffectFPOutNow

There was a video link for their interview about the concept of their new album. You clicked on it.

The Zero Effect’s members appeared on the screen with the interviewer.

Your eyes immediately focused on Semi. He was wearing a sweater with like a blazer that’s fuzzy and a cross pendant necklace.

“We have here with us, the rising alternative rock band, Zero Effect!” The interviewer announced, and the members clapped their hands while smiling widely.

“Introduced yourselves first before we start our interview.”

“Hello, I’m Eita, the lead vocalist and guitarist of Zero Effect.”

You clapped your hands so hard after he was done with his introduction. You felt so proud. He was just a teenage boy before making music at school and make gigs on the weekends.

“Hi everyone! I’m Ryo, the bass guitarist.” He smiled at the camera and wink.

“What’s up? Hi! I’m Eiji, the leader, and keyboardist of Zero Effect.” Among the four of them, he’s the more serious and uptight one.

“Hellooo!! I’m Shiro, the drummer of the band.” He waved at the camera and smiled.

You laughed. The drummer always had that different effect than the others.

Whenever Semi smiles, you would pause the video to screenshot it. He looked so dashing.

After their introduction, the interviewer asked them questions about their album and personal life.

“So Eiji, how did you four meet?”

“We met during our college days,” Eiji answered. “We play as a band since then and we also had our gigs on the weekends.”

“Oh, okay so well, let’s talk about your new album!” The interviewer shifted the topic, “can you say something about that, Eita?”

Nodding his head, Semi looked at the interviewer. “Well, our first mini album is entitled Fading Polaroid. It contains five songs, and it is about lost love. It is an alternative rock ballad, which is composed and arranged by all of us.” He explained the concept of their album.

“There’s this one song called Invisible Line on the album that makes the fangirls, you know, like mixed emotions because of its lyrics. What is it about?” The interviewer got curious as she looked at Semi.

“Uh, okay..” he said awkwardly, “I wrote it three years ago.”

Your lips parted. You recalled that song because he sang it to you before.

“It’s about liking someone but the two of you can’t be together because there’s this invisible line between you two, but the guy wants to be with the girl.” He said, then smiled slightly.

“What inspires you to write that song? If there is?” She asked.

“Uhmm.. Yes, there is..” he said hesitantly.

Realizations hit you and your lips parted.

“I met this girl at our school where we used to study before,” he started talking about that day. “I always see her but I don’t have enough courage to walk up and talk to her, but one day I saw her smiled while I sing and that’s when I tried to open up to her.”

You stared at him while he talked about that day. You didn’t even know that the song he sang was for you.

“Oh.. So, you wrote that song for a girl, huh?” She teased Semi and made it sound scandalous.

“Yes, you can say that.” Semi answered and shifted on his seat.

“Did this girl get to hear the song?” She asked more.

“Yeah, she did.” Semi nodded his head a bit. “But only the chorus part.”

“Semi... I heard it now.” You told him through the screen. “I love it so much that it makes my heart hurt.”

“Do you still have contact with the girl?”

Semi shook his head, “I... I tried to but I don’t know how.” He explained and it made your eyes widened.

“Oh, then why don’t you use this chance to send a message to her?” The interviewer looked so excited as she looked at Semi.

His bandmates laughed, teasing him. They were urging him to look at the camera and do what the interviewer asked him to.

You don’t know what to do now as you looked at him on the screen. Your heart just doesn’t stop racing.

“Uhmm.. Hello?” His bandmates snickered beside him.

Semi already stared at the camera and spoke, “If you’re watching this, thank you for inspiring me to write songs,” he said and you felt your eyes are burning.

“Wherever you are right now, I hope you’re doing well and happy and I hope the song that I wrote for you can make you feel what I’m trying to say for you.” His bandmates clapped so hard and they were cheering for him.

Your lips curled upwards and nodded. The interview continued but you couldn’t focus because of Semi.

You had never idolized someone so much in your life. But at that moment, you were determined to support the band in any way.

Your hands trembled as you looked at the screen of your laptop. You just purchased a VIP ticket for Zero Effect’s meet and greet that will be happening today.

It was a surprise announcement for the fans. You’re glad that you immediately saw the announcement and instantly got a ticket.

There were only ten people that will occupy the VIP seats. Your lucky to be the one who got the last ticket.

As time passes by, you’re feeling nervous. What if he will not recognize you?

He’s an artist now, and you’re just his fan.

You’re driving towards the venue and you feel your heart beating so loud. You parked outside and showed your ticket to the guard.

When you got inside, you sat down on the chair for the VIPs and the stage is now fixed. There are guitars, mic stands, a piano, and a drum set.

The venue immediately filled up with Zero Effect’s fans and the chattering was so loud until a woman announced that the meet and greet will begin shortly.

“Okay! Let’s welcome, Zero Effect!” The woman said.

“We’ll be singing our second song from our album called Miss Sweater.” Ryo, their bass guitarist said and suddenly there’s a loud sound coming from the drums.

She said she likes my song

With a smile on her face

Oh, the way her bright eyes looks at me

Makes my heart shakes

The smiles she gives are so contagious

Now, she’s moving close (moving close)

My heart is racing

Head to toe, you know she’s dressed to kill

Semi looked over the crowd. There must have been at least two hundred people watching him, bathing in the dim different colors of lights of the venue, as he clutched tightly to his guitar. Pumping the music through his veins as he lost himself in the performance.

Nerves were trying to take over your body, as you stared at him up close. Eventually, he lost all sense of everything except for the music, it flows through his veins and swirls in his head. It makes his fingers strums and his foot tap.

His velvet voice brings the lyrics, the music is his external heartbeat and the lyrics are your soul in sweet vibrations.

It’s her mouth and those lips

I want to taste ‘em

It’s her eyes and her face

I want to stare ‘em

Can’t tame my heart alone

When she’s this close

Can we stop the time?

Where are we leading now?

The feelings, all of it is right there, when in that momentary exchange of glances when your eyes met and you smiled to him.

He seemed lost for a moment looking at you but he returned the smile, not leaving his eyes on you. So though the world may love their music, their words and their songs, music really only lives in those intense moments of love.

After the short performance, you lined up for the meet and greet. You became nervous as the line moves. And after nine people, it’s your turn now.

You walked to the other members, the first one is Ryo, the bass guitarist. He looked up to look so surprised.

“Hi! Your name is?” He asked while he took your hand to shake. You gave out the album for him to sign.

“Y/n. I really love your music.” While he signs the album he can’t stop stealing glances from you.

“Really? Well, someone is always inspired to compose,” he smirked. “Anyway, thank you for attending here today, I appreciated it.” He smiled and his eyes disappeared and you chuckled.

He stopped smiling as you smiled, “you look pretty while smiling.” Your eyebrows were raised because of what he said.

“Thank you..” that’s the only thing you said and moved on to their keyboardist, Eiji.

“Hello! Wow, that shirt is so cute! Nice choice.” He pointed at your shirt and laughed. You looked at your shirt with their chibi faces. You chuckled and give him the album.

“Yeah, you looked cute here.” You teased him. He immediately coughed, “thank you..” he looked carefully to the side where Semi was.

One more and then you will finally talk to Semi.

“Good Afternoon! How are you?” Shiro, the band’s drummer asked you while signing their album.

“Hello! I’m fine.” He finally looked up and his eyes widened. He quickly looked at Semi but averted his eyes.

“Uhm... Thank you for coming. Hope to see you, uh, soon, Y/n..” He blabbered and you looked at him surprised because he knows your name.

You suddenly got pushed by a woman who excitedly greets the band’s drummer. The guard blocked the girl’s way and kicked her outside because she came back again after her turn.

Your eyes met with Semi who instantly stand up, eyes widened, and looked so lost for a moment. You stared at him and feel the rush of blood to your cheeks.

“Y/n...” He whispered, but you quickly heard it and smiled at him.

“Uh, hello? Long time no see, Semi.” You said nervously. He shook his head to come back to his senses.

He pulled your hand but stopped when he felt something there. He looked at your palm and saw his guitar pick that he gave you.

“You still have it,” he mumbled. You nodded at him. He pulled your hand to go to their tent. You looked at his muscled back and broad shoulders.

“Do you still remember me?” He asked you while he sat down on the chair. He pulled one on his side and tapped it for you to sit down.

“Of course, Semi. You’re the one who liked me back in college..” you chuckled because he looked so shy when you said that.

“Well, yeah. I indirectly confessed to you buy singing the song I wrote for you.” You pursed your lips to prevent smiling.

“I’m so stupid for not realizing it.” He smiled and pouted before averting his eyes when you looked at him.

“So, what will happen to us now?” You asked. He turned his head at you fast.

“What do you mean us? Do you even like me?” He narrowed his eyes at you.

You looked at him straight in the eyes, “I started liking you when we were in college, right when you sang that song for me. But after that, you left.” You explained and he bit his lower lip before standing up.

“I left because I need to fix something first before proving to you that you deserve me. But fate has different plans for me so...” he said and pulled your elbow. He carefully put his chin on top of your head while he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry that we never happened before,” he sadly said, “but we can start all over again. Right this time.” You pushed him away to look at him.

Your heart was pounding so loudly as you stare at him. Slowly, you nodded. He smiled and hugs you.

“You are the soundtrack of my life, keeps me moving and passionate, and whenever our song plays, you are there, reminding me that you’re whispering in my ears...” You hugged him tightly and felt your eyes tearing up.

You only keep humming while he sings the song he wrote for you. He gently placed his hands on your waist, stared at you before he kissed your forehead.

BONUS:

[freddiefcknmercury]

A Promise(part 2)- Crimson & Clover

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader(Black coded/Genderless)

Word Count: 2.7+

Warnings/Disclaimer: SMUT. ANGST. cursing. mild depression/heart-ache. etc etc. if something needs to be tagged please lemme know.

A/N: LOL I'm back on my bullshit yall. heavy angst/depression from the previous Steve centered storyline so if you haven't read "You really think I didn't know?" I'll do some magic linky links here and at the bottom just in case. Also I'm trying something kinda different with the way I post the fics so feedback is welcome.

ALSO this one comes with a tiny playlist! there are Bolded lyrics throughout if you want to get a deeper sense of where I was emotionally writing this and where reader is as well you can Def give these songs a listen, they are in order of appearance:

Crimson & Clover- Tommy James & The Shondells

Every Time I Breathe- Arlissa

Navy Blue - Hasani

Summary: Bucky takes an extended leave for "work" related reasons and reader slips back into some dark places in his absence...

~*As always, be Nice to me I’m Delicate*~

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He said he might be gone most of the week. Sam called the day before and all you know is it's something important. He didn't go into detail, just packed a bag and you'd never seen him do that before. But he was also only gone a day or two at a time and never felt the need to tell you about it before now either.

Up until recently you'd tip-toe around each other. Not like you used to with Steve though, worse. Bucky is a lot better at making sure you don't know he's there until it's too late. It felt like you'd never get used to each other, or more likely that you'd never want to. You might've still been secretly hoping that he'd stop caring and go away... after a while you got tired of your own bullshit and realized he's giving off that vibe on purpose. Wordlessly telling you how you should feel about him, not wanting to get too close. You never much liked being told what to do.

It was only about two months before you became a Barnes' expert. You'd sit up at night listening intently for when he'd shower, get in bed, or wake up. He never slept more than five maybe six hours at a time, you'll never understand how he can function like that. You know how he likes his coffee, which angle he holds his cup. How and where he takes off his shoes, how much ice he puts in a drink, the way he likes to cut his toast, and what time he has to do all of it. There's an almost unnerving pattern to him, one that's always been there and you were just unwilling to notice for so long, and you're not sure if he's even aware of it.

You woke up to him already gone. You knew he was leaving but actually being left alone like that unsettled you more than you anticipated, a serious case of Deja vu. You went into your routine like normal, because everything still was, but by the fifth day... you stepped into the front room and got that empty feeling. One you hadn't really had since...

It stopped you for a few seconds longer than you liked and a large knot formed in your stomach. You spent the whole day trying to ignore the feeling but it only got worse. Like a hunger pain but much more vague, crawling through each muscle. You'd catch yourself staring at his room, Bucky's room but also... Steve's. It's the first time you let yourself admit to him fully crossing your mind in over a year.

You laid up in bed, trying to count the metaphorical sheep to no avail. Getting up thinking that a snack or a warm drink will stop the restlessness, you pause in the tiny hallway shared by your bedrooms. The low blue light from the moon outside dustily illuminating the space through  a cloudy bathroom window. You stare at the door like any second he's going to ask what you're doing up so late and you can tell him to mind his own business while pouring two cups of tea.

You just wanted to touch the knob; turn it to make sure it still works- that you're still "allowed in there if you want". But stepping inside was too far, an invasion of Bucky's privacy, and you felt it. But you couldn't help yourself. You needed to know.

They were definitely cut from the same cloth. Sparse furnishings and no decorations, save a few very small trinkets he'd held onto from who knows where. There is exactly one row on his bookshelf filled with composition notebooks that were beat to hell and back. Sticky notes lined the edge of most of the pages, so much so that they easily could've been mistaken for feathers on a quick glance. You dare not touch them. Observing someone with a past that checkered is very different to reading into the things they deem worthy of physically writing down.

Where Steve used to leave small drawings and notes Bucky left half empty ink pens and a few well used pairs of gloves. You saunter to the far corner of the room and caress a worn leather jacket hanging precariously on the lowest peg of a coat rack. Doing a slow sweep of the space something in the otherwise barren closet catches your eye. The knot in your stomach that had almost disappeared was back and it brought friends. Your shirt. His shirt. The big one that said BROOKLYN across the front, what you didn't know was your "going away gift." The one you balled up and shoved in the top corner of his closet, at the time hoping you'd never look at it again. You're amazed that it's still here, that Bucky hadn't tossed it out or tried to give it back to you when he moved in.

So you put it on. You're still not sure why but you needed to wear it. To feel it drape over your skin, enveloping you in warmth and that beautiful clean familiar scent you... loved once. It sent a shiver down your spine. The knots in your stomach were gone but now there's one in your throat. You can feel the tears seated right behind your eyes. You sit on the bed holding your face pleading with the water to stay put but it's too late. You miss him. You hate to admit it, but it's true and it always has been. You're angry and you should be, you loved him- you thought he might've loved you. Pulling the hem of the shirt up you wipe the tears off your face and fall into a pillow, trying to calm yourself out of your rage unintentionally drifting into sleep.

*****************************************************

You wake up to the sound of music in the kitchen.

...Ah, now I don't hardly know her, but I think I could love her...

You sit up quickly checking your phone: 11:34am. You'd fallen asleep in Bucky's room, in his bed. A blanket had been placed over you and a short scan of the room returned a brown leather duffel bag and set of black boots that weren't present last night. He'd come back early this morning and found you here. You can feel your heart fall straight out of your ass, the void that was left being filled with pure embarrassment. Is he angry? He did tuck you in...

As slowly and quietly as possible you make your way towards the door, poking your head out just enough to assess the situation. You can see his back in the kitchen, he's hovering over the sink. You notice the couch, the spare blanket and pillow from the bathroom closet folded neatly on one of the arm rests, he had to sleep there. The void gets deeper. You pull the door open just enough to slip out of and there's a quiet creak. Steve never did fix that, and you just figured out why.

Bucky didn't turn around but definitely noticed. He steps to the side, now in front of the stove and you here something crack and sizzle. You're not sure what to do here. You can try to apologies and explain but there's no un-embarrassing way out of this one. You fold your arms over your stomach trying to hold all your very delicate pieces together while you attempt to speak up. Finally reaching the bar and fully prepared to say good morning when he quickly sets a hot bowl down in front of you. White rice and a fried egg- runny yolk. You'd make it for breakfast when you'd get up early or couldn't sleep, a friend from school put you on to it. Looks like he's been studying you too. You make eye contact but, just briefly. From what little of the expression you get on his face nothing indicates that he's mad. But he hasn't said anything to the contrary either.

How was your trip?  Dangerous I bet-sorry you couldn't come home and sleep in your own goddamn bed! Oh?! AND you made me breakfast!

You feel like a crazy person.

"Comfy last night?"

He's pouring himself some coffee, not yet turning your way. There's no hostility in his voice.

You chuckle nervously.

"Yeah.. sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it."

He sets a small glass of juice down in front of you. Heavy eye contact this time, but his expression is soft. He didn't ask for an explanation and you really didn't want to give him one. But you still feel guilt looming over you. You take the glass in both hands and nurse it.

He nods at you with a squint, taking a big sip of coffee.

"If I knew that was yours I would've given it back."

The shirt. You forgot you actually put it on. You hold your breath stroking the fabric gently. Contemplating your next words.

"It's not- well, not really."

He raises an eyebrow.

"It was a gift, so I guess it does belong to me..."

Glancing back down at it you can see him realize it says "Brooklyn." His expression changes to a knowing one and it reads like regret but he quickly tries to box it back up for you. This is a new move for him.

There's a much longer pause in conversation than either of you would like before he shifts his weight awkwardly.

"Sorry."

You push glass, now empty back across the bar towards him.

"Don't worry about it-"

You swivel in your seat quickly, taking your bowl and getting up to leave. He steps out from the kitchen after you.

"Thanks for breakfast."

The tears had been welling up and started to pour over as you left. You're still in no state to pretend to be a functioning person right now. Trying to save him from your ugly cry face by escaping but he grabs your shoulder gently suggesting you backwards.

You cover your mouth to hush a sob. You can see your chest start heave but there's nothing you can do to stop yourself. He grabs the bowl setting it down carefully, then you feel a warm metal sensation squeezing the back of your neck.

"You don't have to be over it."

He's been back a couple hours and already knows you're still a mess. You scoff, laughing at yourself really.

"What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing."

He whispered back quickly, exasperated, but tender.

You sniffle; pathetic.

"That's not how it feels."

"He fucked up. He just doesn't know it."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders pulling you into his embrace.

It's nice to feel another person. A real solid human being; you can't remember the last time you hugged someone like this. You turn in his arms to face him. He looks tired. Not just 'had-to-sleep-on-an-old-couch' tired. Emotionally repressed. Maybe he has actually wanted to talk to you. He pulls you into him, it's just a hug  but it almost hurt how sweet this was.

Then a thought came to you, not really sure how, you can't handle more rejection right now; but you kissed him anyway, hard. Like him being gone almost killed you- because it did. He pulls away from you, just a little, reading your face his own expressionless. You search his eyes for any kind of hint as to what's going on inside his mind. You're not ready to admit this was a mistake yet. There's no real way to know how long you stood there like that. You only dare to move after you hear the song change in the background.

Words... thought they just fade away

but hurt... gave them a place to stay

"Do something."

You were sure it was just in your head but it creaked out past your lips in less than a whisper, pleading with him.

He covered your mouth with his, smoothing both hands down your neck to your shoulders gripping them gently, intently. You cling to his waist almost afraid to explore anywhere else, then slowly drag nails along his back. He pulls you back into him, you want to fuse with the warmth radiating off of his body, he bends and you collide onto the floor with a muffled thud. He cradles your head quickly so you don't get hurt but you wouldn't care at this point.

The way you fit into each other is unnerving, like your bodies weren't meant for anybody else. You both scramble to undress him in between breathy wet kisses and he's... magnificent. He pulls off his shirt and you swiftly run fingers from his neck down each arm. The metal one is warm, this surprises you for some reason. You watch as each "muscle" dances at your touch and you catch a small glimpse of something on his face that resembles insecurity... or fear. He shelves it quickly in response to you bucking your hips up to dismiss your underwear.

He buries his face in your neck, warm breaths ghosting your skin. Hooking his hands behind your knees he hoists your legs up around his waist. He bites down gently and you gasp. It's too much. He's everywhere, all at once. The last person to touch you event remotely close to this was-

"...Steve."

It just came out, you almost didn't notice it. Bucky stops, pulling back and away. He scans you, a pitiful, panting mess on the floor. The most vulnerable you've probably ever been and definitely in front of him. He shakes his head slowly once, chest heaving.

"No."

Knots line your stomach once again. He grabs your wrist to hold your arms in place up above your head and presses his forehead against yours.

"Look at me."

You hold eye contact there for a solid minute, you're sure of it. He leans forward delicately dragging teeth against your ear.

"You're gonna keep saying it until you can't forget."

He drops his hips and lines up with your entrance. You feel a thick wash of euphoria from the pressure, throwing your head back as much as possible given the floor. You roll your hips along to his, cradling each other perfectly.

His eyes didn't leave your face until you both feel your legs begin to tremble.

"Oh Bucky."

The only words you can remember.

You feel every stroke hasten and all his muscles tighten each time his name falls from your lips. He pulls your shirt up to your neck looking to spatter kisses and bite marks across your torso. You futilely dig one set of nails into the floor and the other in his shoulder as he hungrily growls into your stomach, cursing, longing for mercy.

"Fuck."

You pull him back up to your face demanding his tongue. You hear the floorboard creek from the pressure of a metal hand, the flesh one surely bruising your hip by now. There's a deep enduring moan from the back of his throat as he finds his release inside you. You gasp at the sensation and you both pant into each other, nothing but a mess on the floor now.

He presses a long, firm kiss into the bridge of your nose then falls gently on his back beside you. You roll your head up to look at his face, whatever it is he's feeling isn't immediately obvious as he stares up at the ceiling. You shift onto your side placing a light, cautious hand on his chest and he glances over at you, reaching to squeeze your thigh reassuringly.

The sky is Navy Blue soon to be baby blue and baby you got nothing but time...

He looks over your face in a deep sigh before retiring his gaze to the ceiling.

"I don't know him... The guy that left you like that."

You watch intently has his jaw clenched, he's never been able to hide that bit very well.

"I don't know what kind of..."

He trails off, clearly upset.

You sigh deeply.

"I was gonna die that night."

He rolls his head back to look at you.

"The day I met him? I had pretty much made up my mind."

You start to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Almost reminiscent.

"But he found me in the staircase..."

You hate how subtly he did some things. If you weren't lying next to him. There's no way you'd ever be able to tell his breathing had changed.

"Essentially-"

You pick your head up, chin on his sternum.

"He saved my life."

You state matter of factually. You watch his body relax in a short, bitter way.

He rolls his head over just enough to look you in the eyes. You kiss his chest once tenderly before moving to stand up. You extend a hand down for him to grab.

"That isn't good for your back."

"You really think I didn't know?" Part1

[detroitbydark]

Fox and Mouse Finale 2/2

Chapter 14

Part 1/2 can be found here

Characters: Commander Fox x Mouse (reader), and more Jedi/clones/politicians than you can shake a stick at.

Summary: Yearning and Fluff and SMUT! Oh my! 

Rated: M 18+

A/N: Ladies and Lads this is it! A chapter so stupid long it required it be split in two pieces. I'm not going to make you wait and I'll be posting both this evening. I'm feeling really sentimental because this is the longest thing I've ever written and completed. I couldn't have done it without y’all. Your support and comments have helped me get through the tough periods of writing and the stress in my life as of late. This is for you guys! Thank you. I love you!

Special thanks as always to @skdubbs and @crimson-dxwn for being there to listen to me and help me every step of the way. You are both absolutely amazing!

------------------------

Fox’s head is reeling, but he feels like he’s holding it together well. He’s pretty sure she can’t feel the shaking in his hand as she takes it and drags him to his feet. Her smile is soft and comforting. It’s home. Mouse is home.

His bucket is left on to rest on the blanket as she leads him through the grass. Wildflowers press into the plates of his armor, leaving yellow smears of pollen in their wake. Mouse looks over her shoulder as they go. Fox wonders if she feels the same way he does, like this is all a dream that will be over the second he wakes. That he’s desperate to stay under its sway just a little while longer.

“Come on Al’verde,” she teases, “I feel like I’m dragging a ton of duracrete. Pick up your feet.”

Fox yanks her hand and she stumbles back toward him, hands colliding with his chest as she breaks into a fit of laughter so honeyed and sweet it would make the bees jealous. She rolls up onto the balls of her feet and kisses his chin, then the tip of his nose. If the boys could see him now, grinning down at her like a fool in love, like a man who didn’t have the weight of a thousand suns on his shoulders.

“Stop trying to distract me. I told you I want to show you something,” she says, pulling away before he can get his lips on hers.

She leads him toward the small pool of water he’d passed coming to find her, where twin waterfalls keep the water bubbling and a fine mist of droplets in the air. They cling to her hair and weigh down the thin fabric of her dress, highlighting the soft curves he was denying himself.

“Where are you taking me, little Mouse?”

She doesn’t answer, instead flashing that enigmatic smile again and leading him to a rock wall that shot up suddenly from green pasture and up into the sky. The sound of water is loud, not quite deafening but definitely distracting. Mouse lets loose his hand and slips in between a gap in the slab wall. He is a far bigger fan of his cyar’ika than he is of tight spaces, but it still gives him a moment's hesitation, finally broken by her teasing voice calling his name.

It’s dark, damp with moisture clinging to the walls that press in on him, but again, before they begin to close in around him, he hears her voice call to him and he follows it like a beacon. In reality the passage is short and opens quickly into a larger cavity. Light spills in and his eyes have barely adjusted before Mouse is pressing into him. Fox stumbles back a half step and laughs as he leans down, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. Mouse rests her head against his shoulder as he takes in his surroundings.

“I found it my first week here” she says softly. He nearly doesn’t hear her over the sound of rushing water. It wasn’t a true cave so much as it was an alcove behind one of the twin falls. “The flow has eased off as the rains have. When I first came I couldn’t even hear myself think. I think maybe that’s what I liked about it.”

Fox knows the feeling well, remembers throwing himself into his work to try to forget.

“Did it help?” Work hadn’t helped for him, nor had sparring with Hound, hitting the blaster range with Ryk, or any of the other half dozen things he’d done to push thoughts of her away.

Mouse offers him a sad smile before turning and walking toward the edge of the cave and reaching out letting water splash over her finger tips. “No.”

He can’t hold her gaze. Instead his eyes rove, search for something to focus on other than her and the feeling of failure that wells up on him. Mouse hadn’t been the only explorer to find the secret cave. Names are etched into the rock walls. Sets of initials added together, hearts and promises and small bits of flowery poetry of different ages. Generation upon generation of infatuations, puppy loves, lust, and tenderness written into stone for all eternity.

“Fox? You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”

The nearness to the falls has only made the cling of fabric to her skin worse. The pale blue is nearly sheer in parts and Fox tries not to focus on the way it sticks to her legs, outlines their shape. “Do what?”

“Feeling bad for me? Feeling bad for you? Take your pick.” Her voice is teasing but her eyes belay the seriousness underlying her words. “Don’t. It’s as easy as that, right? Just stop.” She beckons him with a small wave of her fingers.

“Come here so I can show you what’s so special.”

Fox closes the distance between them as she turns back to the rushing water. His body slots in behind hers. His hands circle her hips and he frowns again at just how much weight she lost.

Her fingers, cooled by the running water, reach back over her shoulder and cup his cheek. “I know it’s hard,” she says, all teasing gone, “but we’re going to do this together.”

“Communication,” he whispers quietly. “It’s important,” he clarifies. Mouse nods, her head falling back to rest against his chest.

“I’m going to communicate this then -I don’t now, nor have I ever blamed you for what has transpired. You’re no more at fault than I am.”

“But you’re not at fau-“ he stops abruptly. “I see what you're saying, but it’s easier to say than to believe.”

“Fake it until you make it.”

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh working its way past his lips before he leans forward and kisses the hair at the top of her head.

“That easy?”

“Was anything worth it ever easy?” she asks softly.

The simple answer was no. It all took work. It had taken nearly a year for him to kiss her for the first time, hadn't it?

“Fake it ‘til I make it,” he repeats, and he can feel as much as he can hear the contented hum she makes.

“Exactly. Now, what time have you got?” The sudden change of subject has him raising a brow and his vambrace up to look at the built in chrono. He rattles off the time and she makes another contented sound.

“Perfect timing. Now watch.” She stares out into the falling water. He’s nearly ready to ask what he’s watching for when a change in the light hits the droplets just right. Rainbows are thrown across the inside of the cave. Some steady, like the continuous fall of water, some here and gone as the stream is broken. He’s never seen anything like it. It’s stunning. Mouse leans back into his chest. The armor isn't comfortable to rest on but it doesn’t seem to bother her. He wishes it wasn’t between them.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

It is.

A small laugh bubbles from her lips as she turns and her fingers trace the strays colors flickering at his temple. One hand rests over his heart. She’s happy and in his arms and the moment is perfect.

“Marry me.”

The words slip from his lips faster than credits from a gamblers hands on Canto Bight.

Mouse startles, pulls back and then her foot is coming out from under her and her arms go to grabbing, finding purchase on one of his. Her weight, however slight, combined with his surprise are enough to drag him forward with her as the pair falls through the rushing water and immediately into the pool below.

Mouse comes up laughing and sputtering. Her teeth set to chattering almost instantly. Fox doesn’t find it nearly as funny, even less so when Mouse’s eyes fall on him and peals of laughter escape her til she can barely breathe. He’s cold and he can’t believe he asked that question.

“You look like an angry tooka!” she barely manages to get out as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m all wet.”

Mouse rises to her feet. The pool is shallow and only comes up to her hips. Her dress has gone sheer and leaves nothing to the imagination as she splashes water at her grumpy paramour. “So am I.”

His hair hangs nearly to his brows, pasted down against his forehead. Mouse squeals as his eyes narrow and he lunges for her. She barely gets away from his first attempt, but is far to slow for his second. He hauls her into his arms and holds her close.

“Gotcha.”

Mouse squirms and laughs in his grip but she isn’t really trying to get away. She only manages to give him a better look at the curve of her breasts and the pale shadow of peaked nipples through it.

“Don’t do it,” she warns.

Fox smiles, aiming for innocence but failing miserably. “Do what? Do…. this?”

He falls back, dragging her with him into the cold clear pool. Water clings to her lashes as they both come up gasping and laughing. He nearly apologizes but Mouse’s lips are on his, her hands at either side of his head.

Where her lips are cold, her tongue is warm and welcome as it strokes along his own. Suddenly the water doesn’t seem so cold, his soaked blacks underneath the layer of composite armor doesn’t chafe so much. It’s easy to forget the world exists outside of the pair of them and the soft sounds she’s making at the back of her throat and the equally needy moans she’s pulling from him.

He buries his face in her neck when she pulls back, nipping and sucking to reacquaint himself with all the sweet spots and equally enticing sounds they produced.

“Are we going to do this here?” She pants out his question from earlier. The want in her voice mirrors the one he felt.

“Kriff…” He manages to drag his mouth away from her wet skin. One arm around her waist secures her to him as he lets the rest of her body slide back into the water. He chuckles at her hiss as the cold envelopes her again.

“Ok. New plan-“

“Your room or mine?”

————

There’s going to be tiny puddles of water leading from the garden all the way up to the guest rooms. Mouse can look behind them and see them forming, falling between Fox’s armor and skin. They get particularly bad every so often. Like now, where the urge has overwhelmed one or both. Fox has her back pressed firmly against the wall, a tapestry on either side of them whose beauty is going completely unrecognized as she hikes a leg up over and around his hip. Fox’s mouth is fused to hers as a free hand massages her breast through the damp fabric.

“Going to make you scream my name.” Fox comes up for air, pressing his forehead into hers as they both pant. She squirms against him seeking friction that will ease the building tension.

Neither of them sees the Chancellor until he is clearing his throat.

“Well, it’s good to see that you two have made your amends.” She can feel Fox’s spine go rigid as her leg falls. He puts only a hair's breadth of space between them, stepping slightly between her and Bail Organa.

“Sir, I was just showing the lady back to her quarters.”

Mouse stifles a laugh, and Chancellor Organa seems to be holding back one of his own. Mouse presses into Fox’s back and peers around to the Chancellor.

“We’ve been having a very heated discussion on the personhood bill, Chancellor.” She offers.

Fox glances back at her with a filthy smile. “Very heated sir. It may take us the rest of the day to come to terms with it.” He glances back at the Chancellor and Mouse notes, not for the first time, the friendship that has blossomed between the two. He’d never been so relaxed when talking about Palp- He’d never dared an ounce of impropriety before but now he was blatantly flaunting his highly inappropriate relationship without the least hint of shame.

Bail let’s his eyes roam between the pair for half a second, “As you were Commander, who am I to get in the way of aggressive negotiations? I expect a full report at breakfast tomorrow.”

Fox bites back a smile. “Breakfast will be fine sir though my report may be heavily redacted.”

Bail shakes his head with a laugh, finally giving in. “So be it.” He takes a half a step to move past them before stopping. “I would take the back way upstairs. Your vode and their generals are having an impromptu Sabaac tournament in the parlor and you won’t get away from them as easily as you will from me.” Fox nods.

“Also Commander?”

Fox cocks his head in question.

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Bail gives his pauldron a quick pat as he walks by. Mouse watches as the Chancellor moves down the hall without a look back. When her eyes do move back to the man in front of her, a new heat is burning in his eyes. She stifles a laugh as he scoops her up.

“You're taking far too much time cyar’ika.”

Mouse finally does laugh as she points in the direction of the back stairs. “Me? I believe it was you who said this seemed like as good a spot as any.” She pitches her voice low in mockery of his own.

“You do a horrible impression,” he mutters, taking the steps two at a time. He’s not even breathing heavy by the time he reaches his room and eases them through the door.

Mouse’s feet have barely hit the floor before she starts helping pull off bits of armor. His bucket, attached to his belt for safekeeping, is carefully shucked into the small corner table as a pile of drippy plastoid begins to take shape on the floor. When he’s down to just his clinging Blacks he moves on her.

“You have too much on.”

Mouse grins as she bends, grips the hem of the dress, before pulling it up and over her head. She tosses it lazily to the side.

“Still too much,” he says slowly, as his eyes rove over her. Mouse laughs as he closes the space between them.

“I’ve got panties on Fox. That’s it.” She makes a small surprised sound as he drops to his knees in front of her. A surge of excitement catches her off guard as Fox’s hands grip her hips and pull her body close. She can feel the scratchy stubble along his chin as he nuzzles at the small dip where her thigh meets her hip.

“Still too much.”

He’s looking up the line of her body and Mouse feels something like power flowing through her as he leans in and places a soft kiss over her hip bone. His thumbs hook in the band of her simple panties and push them down over her sex, below her knees, to her feet where he gently encourages her to step out of them.

“Better?” He’s barely touched her but she already feels breathless.

He leans in, rests his head against the flat plain of her stomach, his warm breath tickles as his hand strokes up and down her thighs. “Yes. Much.”

A glint of silver flashes at his temple as Mouse brings her hand to stroke through his hair. Fox’s eyes slip shut. All the rush to arrive has led to this, a serene moment. A moment that leaves Mouse feeling more connected to him than any kiss on their way back to the estate.

“I see you have a perfectly lovely bed waiting for us.”

Fox turns into her body and presses his lips along her tummy then to her hip. “Can’t lie,” he murmurs against her skin, “I’m pretty content right here.” His eyes flutter shut once more as her nails gently rake across his scalp.

“Cyare,” she whispers softly, “take me to bed?”

Rising slowly to his feet Fox doesn’t let himself lose contact with her body once. His  motions are unhurried. “Your accent is getting better.”

“I’ve had some help.”

Fox doesn’t ask who. He has an idea and he’ll probably have to thank them at some point, but he’d rather not think of the Marshal Commander while he makes love to his girlfriend.

Mouse steps away, smiling coyly over her shoulder as he reaches after her. The soft sway of her hips makes his mouth go dry.

“I feel like you’re the one with too many clothes now, Al’verde.”

There’s an underlying confidence to her that he doesn’t remember, a way she moves, a way she holds his gaze. It makes him want. It makes him need.

Just like she had with her dress, he is quick to pull off the black under armor top he wore but the reaction as her eyes trace over him isn’t quite the same as when she’d performed the same maneuver.

Mouse’s eyes go wide as she focuses on his chest.

“What is that?”

Why has her voice gone so quiet? He glances down and realizes-

“Oh Fox…”  her hand is warm against his bare chest as she matches it up with the tattooed replica of her print.

“We’ll talk about it later, cyar’ika.” He tries to sound persuasive but the petite creature in front of him is not having it.

Fox allows her to drag him the last few steps to the bed. He plops down with a tired sigh.

“We’ll talk about it now.” It’s a gentle order but an order nonetheless.

“Communication?”

Mouse nods as she slides into his lap, a leg falling to either side of his. Fox’s hands come up automatically, one on her lower back and the other with fingers flexed over her bottom. “That would be a good start,” she encourages. Leaning in, Mouse presses her forehead to his.

“Now, why?”

It’s the most arousing interrogation he’s ever been a part of. One part of his brain says to kiss her and make her forget she ever had a question in the first place, but the other reminds him of Bly and General Secura.

Promises could be made ‘til the end of time, but if he didn’t follow through, if he didn’t show her that he intended to hold himself to that standard than everything he said, no matter how poetic or romantic, meant bantha shit.

“I didn’t want to forget you.”

“Oh Fox…”

He wishes she wouldn’t say that. He doesn’t like the sadness that fills her voice, like it’s not for herself but for him. Fox tips his head away ducking around her until he can press his cheek against the smooth expanse of her neck. Nothing about this came easy and she seems to give him the simple gift of a small escape.

“I failed you. I couldn’t let myself forget that,” he continues, his lips moving against her skin. His lips brush over her pulse and Mouse inhales so sweet and soft it nearly shatters him.

“Didn’t fail,” she manages out. Her hand slips between them and traces over the inked lines. “You could never.”

“Your faith in me is moving, cyar'ika, but I’m afraid your love for me has left you blind.”

Mouse laughs as his lips brush butterfly soft under her ear. Goosebumps erupt over her body. “So be it ner darasuum. Let me be blind and happy. It’s much preferable to being alone and sad.”

Fox freezes and draws back. Mouse looks so serene and at peace even though there’s no taking back what she’s just called him.  My Forever.

Mouse’s hands gently cradle his cheeks. Her mouth curls into a smile, beatific and knowing. Fox feels like his chest is going to explode.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” The words slip from her lips with the smoothness of a nonnative speaker who is only becoming proficient. “Apparently, it was important for a silly little Mouse to learn more Mando’a.”

Words fail him. Even if he wasn’t saying the right thing he usually had something to say, but not to that. Not to her declaration worded in his preferred language, not when she was perched naked in his arms. Not when she looked down on him like she saw all his sins and cared for him in spite of them.

Fox leans in and captures her mouth with his own, cherishing the feeling of plump wanting lips under his own as he pulls her in close and presses his body against hers. Mouse goes pliant in his arms, moulding to his body as her arms snake around his neck. Her hips rock lazily, grinding against the hard line of him without any real intent just yet. He wishes he would have taken his pants off first. The telltale heat of her center is painfully close, the fabric already becoming damp with her arousal.

A quiet, needy sound rises up in her throat as his tongue strokes along hers. Last night had given him a none too gentle reminder of what a pleasure it was to touch her. Earlier in the cave, it had been a tease of what was to come. Now there was no chance she was getting away from him. No ultimatums, no di’kutla proposals to ruin the moment. It was just them and the sunlight soaked day stretching out ahead.

Mouse’s tongue slides along his own. She’s less languid now. Her body rolls against his with intimate purpose. Each time she grinds down on him her breasts press against his chest. He's lightheaded from the press of her skin, hot against his.

His blacks feel constricting.They're irritating and uncomfortably tight. Fox attempts to push them down with one hand but there’s no room between them. He lifts his hips and she lets out a needy moan into his mouth that makes the aching hardness pressing against his thigh that much worse.

One hand slides up the bare expanse of her spine, feels the little ridges as it goes. Fox’s fingers tangle in her loose hair and pull her away. Mouse whines at the loss.

“Cyar’ika, precious one, sweet love of my life,” he starts, “if I don’t get these pants off I’m going to cum in them like some shiny cadet.”

It takes a moment for her to swing her leg over him, kneeling to the side. His focus shifts to getting his no good, kriffing blacks off his legs while Mouse seems to want to challenge his ability to complete any task. He watches as she leans. Starting at the edge of his shoulder, she begins laying trailing kisses. He falls back onto the elbow nearest her to keep his body propped, allowing her easier movement while his other hand grips at the waist of his blacks and yanks them down as he lifts his hips up. It’s such a relief when his cock bobs free that he nearly groans.

He does groan when Mouse’s smart little mouth moves from his collarbone down to his tattoo. It’s fascinating watching as she kisses each red inked finger. He reaches down and grasps the hardness between his legs and pumps it lazily.

From the tips of the tattoo she trails her tongue over his heated skin, moving down until her mouth opens to envelop his nipple. Fox can’t help but arch at the sensation of her hot mouth as she gently alternates between nipping and sucking..

“Fierfek,” he curses lowly as she continues to heap attention on him. Her other hand slips down his body and shoos his own away from his cock. It’s heaven to watch her wrap her delicate fingers around him and pump, gathering beads of precum to aid in lubricating each stroke.

He curses again as her thumb sweeps over the weeping slit. Mouse’s mouth comes free from his nipple with a soft ‘pop’ of release and she places one more kiss in the center of his tattoo.

“Cyar’ika, I want to taste you.” His cock comes to rest, hard and leaking into his belly as she lets go.

“I think we’ll be discussing the logistics of the bill all night, don’t you?” Mouse offers him a heavy-lidded smile as she pushes on his opposite shoulder until he gives in and falls back onto a matching elbow.

Fox can only nod mutely as one leg is draped back over his lap. “Right now I don’t want to play anymore.” She says softly, taking his cock in hand and lining it up with her center. “I need you, Fox.”

A low groan escapes them both as the angry red tip of him comes into contact and swipes along her drenched outer lips. She moves him back and forth, collecting her slick along the tip of his cock as she goes.  Her mouth falls open in a quiet moan as she uses his weeping tip to rub her clit. The teasing is exquisite torture. Months of longing and desire build with each touch of her skin to his.

One hand shoots forward and steadies her hip as she slowly begins to take him. Usually he’d have used his fingers to help prepare her body, but she’s not having any of that right now. He watches her move, taking little bits at a time. Her head falls back, her eyes shut and her lips parted. That possessive little part in his soul purrs at the sight of his woman, his partner splitting herself open, desperate for him.

“Say it again,” he demands, fingers digging into the flesh of her hip.

Mouse feels drunk on sensation. It’s been too long since she’s had him and each inch she takes stretches her body deliciously.

“I need you, Fox,” she repeats. Her eyes flutter open to meet the soft golden brown hues of his own locked intently on her.

This is better than any dream, any late night with her fingers working furiously pretending they were something they weren’t, better than the discreetly packaged toy she’d purchased off the holonet. All were poor facsimiles for what she felt now as she comes to rest against his body feeling overwhelmingly full. 

“Feel so good,” Fox praises, his voice gone rough, drawn tight like the muscle straining in his neck, “Missed touching you.”

Fox’s hand strays from her hip, thumb skimming along her belly as he slides it up her body. Mouse moves her hips tentatively as his rough fingers skim over her breast and capture the pebbled peak topping it. He rolls the dusky tip of her nipple between his fingers, drawing a ragged moan from her.

“You ready to move, cyar’ika?” he purrs as he plucks gently. The sensation travels straight to her center. She can’t help but arch into his touch, crying out softly at the combination of stimuli. Fox’s hips jerk seemingly against his own will, just a micro movement, but it makes her head spin all the same as she slowly begins to rock her body, rising up oh so slightly before sinking back down fully. Mouse watches as his head falls back and his hand falls back to her hip in a desperate grip.

Soft sounds spill from her lips, a constant flow of pleasure for him to hear.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly as her eyes fall shut again. His hips cant up to meet her, their bodies rolling together in a sinuous motion.

She hears his name fall from her lips, full of love and desperation. In a smooth movement Fox is pushing himself into a sitting position and wrapping his arms around her, tight bands of muscle she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. Her rhythm is lost as he moves them back, until his back is against the headboard. His knees angle up behind her. An arm stays banded around her as he uses the leverage to begin to fuck up into her willing body. It takes a moment for her to find her rhythm again as bright beams of pleasure shock her system each time the head of his cock brushes against her sensitive walls. He chuckles as she makes a frustrated sound.

“There, there, precious. I’m going to make you feel so good,” he promises, nuzzling against her throat. His breath is hot on her skin and she struggles to ground herself among the sea of emotions swirling around her. She feels his teeth graze along her collarbone and her body clenches around him. Fox growls low against her skin. Mouse holds tight to one shoulder, nails leaving angry half moon marks, as her other hand grasps for the short hair at the back of his head.

Dark marks are sucked into the skin on the column of her neck, her shoulder, the soft spot just below her jaw. She shouldn’t enjoy his possessiveness as much as she does, but Mouse can’t help the way she rocks just a little harder against him thinking about what she’ll see in the mirror tomorrow. A feeling, tight and winding, begins to build low in her belly leaving her feeling like she was in a race to catch up.

Fox feels it too, the telltale seizing of muscles as her body began its hunt toward climax.  Her nails dig sharply into his skin as he finds her mouth. It’s sloppy and needy. Mouse’s teeth nip at his lip and he feels his own end threatening, a telltale tingle starting at the base of his spine. Not yet though.

Their bodies move together, finally finding some semblance of familiarity after so long apart. The quiet whimpers that have been slowly spilling from her mouth become louder echoing pleasantly in his ears.

“You’re close, aren’t you? Me too.” Her hips stutter at his observation. “I want to feel you first. Can you do that for me?”

“Fox- please.” There was something about the way she asked, so polite with her “please” that strokes his ego, bringing a self-satisfied grin to his face.

“What do you need, little Mouse?”

“Ask me again,” she demands breathlessly, “Please ask me again.”

Ask? Ask what? At this point he’d honestly do anything she asked of him. His brows knit together and she must see his confusion through the fog of her desire.

“Earlier. Under the falls- you asked-“ Fox’s hand drops between them, finds her clit and begins rubbing it in smooth circles. Mouse’s back arches and her head falls against his shoulder.

“Again. Ask again.” She begs softly.

Did she mean-?

“Cyar’ika, look at me” he demands, slowing down just enough to turn his head, nuzzle his nose against hers until he’s sure her lust darkened eyes are focused only on his. “Marry me?”

“Fox… Fox… Fox…” she so close he can feel her body pulled taut like a bow. Sweat drips between their bodies as they chase release together. “Yes. Maker- yes.” She manages out seconds before waves of pleasure wash over her. She calls out his name in basic and again, softer,  in Mando’a. It comes out as a sweet Fox’ika he’s never heard her use before.

He holds her close, working her through her high until he can no longer keep his own pace and his body coils tight and snaps. The world whites out as he finds his end in her, each pulse of his cock met by the vice grip of her body around him seemingly working in tandem with his to bring about an orgasm that leaves him overwhelmed and disoriented.

Mouse trembles in his arms. It’s the first thing he’s able to note as he comes back into himself. The next is that her lips are peppering his skin lazily with feather light kisses, murmuring soft words against his neck.

And then it hits him.

He nearly jostles her from her position straddling his lap with the sharp movement he makes. She wraps her arms around his neck and has the audacity to laugh at his stunned expression

“You want to marry me?”

Mouse leans in and kisses the very tip of his nose. “You already asked me that, silly.” Her fingers tease gently at the short hair at the back of his head.

“I- Kriff, you know what I meant.” He slips his hands up between her arms and holds her face. Her eyes are soft and relaxed, her cheeks still painted with a flush of pink, a small smile tugs at her lips. She looks perfectly content and… in love.

With him.

“Of course I want to marry you, taking care of you is a full time job-“ He drags her in for a kiss, slanting his mouth over hers. When she pulls back she’s laughing. “-at least this way I can collect the fringe benefits.”

He feels a smile split his own features in two.

Mouse squirms in his grip. The fading blush returns with a vengeance as he slips from her body, an unquestionable wet trickle following. While she may be embarrassed, he finds it sinfully hot to have his seed marking her thigh. He takes pity though and lets her escape to the ‘fresher. He lets his head fall back against the headboard. He can’t wipe the smile from his face. In his wildest dreams he never saw this playing out like it had.

The sound of the door opening has him turning his head lazily in her direction. He’s pretty sure she’s a goddess. Nope. Strike that. He was positive she was a Goddess and somehow she was his.

She tosses a warm washcloth his way and averts her eyes as he cleans up. It makes him chuckle as he does. She crawls back into bed as he finishes and attempts to lay next but that wasn’t going to work. Instead he drags her back into his lap. She curls into him as soon as she’s in place, legs off one side, head resting on his opposite shoulder all the while looking like she was made to be there.

“When do you think we could do it?” she asks softly,”It’s not exactly legal.”

He’s already thought of that.

“We could do it anytime you want. The old Mandalorian way. Exchange some vows and bam! Married.” Her brows furl in thought “unless you want to wait for-“

“I’m not Mandalorian.”

“And I’m just a poor facsimile of one,” he huffs when her frown deepens. “It’s the vow that matters. If you believe in the words you're saying, the vow you make, what does it matter?” Her hand feels so soft and so fragile in his own as he brings it up to his lips and gently kisses along her knuckles.

“So we could do this?”

“We could do this.”

“When?” There’s an excitement stirring in her voice and he doesn’t try to hide the matching energy on his own.

“Whenever you wa-“

“Now. I want it now.” She slips off his lap and turns to him, kneeling. Her eyes are as bright as the stars in the sky and far more captivating as far as Fox is concerned. He sits up a little straighter.

“You’re serious? Just like that?”

Mouse nods. She’s never been so sure of anything in her life. When he’d said it earlier today she was scarcely sure she heard him correctly, and then the icy bath in the pool had worked wonders in rearranging her priorities.

“Stop questioning me. You’d think you’d be happy to-“

He steals the air from her lungs and the words from her mouth with a kiss that, had her panties not already been on floor, would have surely put them there. His hands cup her face and she’s thankful for the anchor they provide as she whimpers into his mouth.  She lets out a ragged breath as he pulls back just enough for her to focus.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

Maker bless Cody because she understands every word Fox says. The Marshal Commander hadn’t even blinked when she’d posed her question.

“You have to breathe Cyar’ika,” Fox whispers and Mouse lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Fox’s brows bunch together as her silence stretches. “We don’t have to-“

Mouse presses a finger to his lips and he quiets.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

Fox leans in, presses his forehead to hers. Her heart is full. Her soul is light.

“Mine,” he promises softly.

She smiles at the claim.

“Mine,” she makes her own assertion.

His thumb strokes along her jaw. “Precious…” He pulls her back into his lap and Mouse’s eyes grow wide as she looks down as giggles begin to bubble up in her chest.

“Again already?”

“We need to get to work on those little warriors.”

——-

Mouse really hadn’t wanted to get out of bed. Strike that. She had adamantly refused to get out of bed. She was nowhere near Fox’s level of ‘morning person’ and the pleasantly dull ache between her legs left her even more certain that bed was the perfect place for her.

Unfortunately, her newly minted Riduur had other ideas. Mainly to watch the sunrise - just once - over Naboo’s famed lakes. He’d seemed so hopeful that she had begrudgingly crawled from her bed and slid into a pair of leggings before stealing one of the black under armors he’d packed. He seemed to approve as she tied the overly large shirt off just below her navel, his eyes lingering on the bare strip of flesh as he’d pulled his own clothes on. It had been fascinating and almost jarring to see him in something other than regulation GAR issued clothes, instead having opted for the simple pants and tunic that Padmé had left for all her guests in their rooms.

“You know, we could still go back to bed and discuss the little warriors some more,” she teases lightly as she reaches across the table and retrieves an insulated carafe. She pours two mugs of rich black caf and then begins doctoring them accordingly.

The light is slowly beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the lake when the patio doors open and the rest of their party ease into the cool morning air.

Fox huffs, “First we eat and then we’ll discuss what pops up.”

“You’re talking about sex right?” Bly’s voice echoes over the patio, “because honestly, bravo. Amiright?” He looks to an exasperated General Secura and an equally unamused Cody. “Because wow, you two give Aayla and I a run for our credits.”

“Bly!” The Commander winces as Aayla cuts her eyes at him. Mouse hides her embarrassed smile in the hot mug of sweet caf.

“Come on, look at him!” Bly points to Fox who sips at his own caf. “When was the last time he looked so much like himself?”

“You mean a smug asshole?” Cody cuts in straight faced, but eyes dancing with amusement.

“Exactly!”

Mouse glances at her husband and the way he’s relaxed back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, the sleeves of his cream tunic rolled up just below his elbows with strong forearms on display... stars above! And that grin…

He did, in fact, look like a smug asshole and it did things to her.

“Don’t be jealous Bly. It’s not becoming.” Fox baits his vod happily.

“Why you little mir’sheb-“

Cody rolls his eyes and physically moves Bly out of the way with a straight arm to find his spot at the table.

Aayla slides in next to Mouse. The Jedi gives her a knowing smirk before gently touching a spot just behind her ear. The twi’lek’s voice is conspiratorial. “Our boys like to make it appear as if we’ve done battle with octopi, no? Bacta gel and high collars are going to be your best friend.”

Mouse can feel her cheeks heating up again as Bly’s head appears over Aayla’s shoulder. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s never worn anything high collared in her entire life.”

“Are we starting in on the armor argument again this early?” the blue skinned woman asks with a huff.

“Now that you mention it…”

The pair dissolve into playful bickering while the doors open and Padmé and Anakin make their way onto the patio, each with a baby in tow, while General Kenobi takes up the rear. The atmosphere is lively as everyone settles in. Babies are dispersed and fawned over. Bly smiles widely as Luke fumbles to touch and grab at his face. Obi-wan has a placid watchful Leia in his arms. Both look serene to a point where it’s nearly comical.

The Chancellor makes his presence known as the food is being spread out.

“What a strange group we have here,” he notes with a smile.

“Ah yes, it would seem you have stumbled on the inaugural meeting of those who don’t believe in fraternization regulations.” Obi-wan’s eyes sparkle with mischief while at his side Cody rolls his.

A small laugh rises within the group and for a moment there is no war, no separatists, no strife or heartache within the Republic. For a moment everyone is allowed to just be, without making decisions or worrying about repercussions.

Mouse tops off Fox’s caf before pouring one for Cody, who thanks her with a knowing smile and nod. Fox is busy piling a plate with food. Colorful cut fruit, fresh meats, and rich pastries fill it as he sits back.

The babies are making their rounds. Anakin has managed to wrangle his daughter back from the child’s Grand Master and Luke is plunked into Mouse’s arms while Padmé seems to enjoy the moment sans child.

When she glances at Fox, she can’t help but notice the way he looks at the infant in her arms. His eyes soften at the little boy as he gurgles and tries to grab ahold of Mouse’s braid hanging over her shoulder.

If he had his way, they’d have a tiny one of their own in nine months. Not that she was complaining. If they could use their contacts to rush Me’kar’s adoption through, they could have two before the next Festival of Life. Of course, until Padme’s bill became law, Fox wouldn’t be the father of record for at least Me’kar - possibly either child - but they’d already talked about it and they would do it the Mando way until they could-

“Cyar’ika? You’re thinking very hard about something,” Fox notes softly, holding his hands out for his turn with Luke.

“Yes, I hope you're feeling well,” Padmé adds as Mouse admires the tiny child tucked comfortably into the crook of his elbow, “I hear that you may not have had much sleep last night.” Mouse’s head snaps to her friend who - for being an amazing politician - is doing an awful job of hiding her smile behind her cup of juice.

Mouse glances sideways at the snort her husband makes. He pushes the plate of food in front of her and eyes it. “Eat, precious.”

He ignores the way her eyes roll and maintains his stare until she takes the first bite of fruit.

“Commander Fox.” Bail eyes the pair of them as he speaks, “I wonder if you had the report on those aggressive negotiations we’d spoken of yesterday.”

“As I stated, they’re likely to remain heavily redacted.” The grin that spreads across Fox’s face should have warned her he was up to no good. “But my Riduur and I came to a perfectly reasonable agreement in the end.”

Bastard.

The table goes silent as Fox looks down and coos something to Luke. Mouse puts her head down and chews longer than necessary. Someone drops a fork. Then, all at once-

“As someone experienced in secret weddings-“

“Can he do that? Legally speaking-”

“Leave it to Fox-”

“I have a sister now?! Cody we have-“

“This is going to go over like a-“

“There’ll be no living with him now. Does this set a-“

Mouse takes another bite as she looks over at the satisfied grin on the face of the Coruscant Guard Commander. “Are you quite happy now?”

“Very.”

She can’t argue with that.

[pressedinthepages]

Brontide

noun. the low rumble of distant thunder.

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 3633

Rating: E  

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24245866

a/n: so once again, this ran away with me. this wasn’t a prompt, just an idea from my brain.

Warnings: filthy smut, oral sex, penetrative sex, female reader

A storm is raging, Jaskier and Reader confess their feelings for one another and have an exciting night

The sudden crack of thunder shoots you back to reality. It’s late, and you’re huddled up in a tavern in the middle of nowhere. Geralt has long since retired to bed, but both you and Jaskier are still lingering among the empty tables and abandoned tankards. You know that Geralt trusts the bard to take care of himself, but you just can’t bring yourself to leave him after one too many incidents involving a scorned spouse and a very sharp blade. So, you’ve resigned yourself to keeping guard from a dark corner with a little window, listening to the most ancient song of rain nourishing the earth. 

    You’ve been alone for at least an hour, the barkeep shoving the last dawdling drunk out of the doors and bolting the doors behind him. He gave you both a kind smile and retreated to his own dwelling above the tavern, leaving you alone with the bard.

    Jaskier has been strumming quietly across the room, apparently working on a new composition. Every now and then you’ll hear him mutter a curse under his breath and scribble on his parchment, but otherwise he’s not said a word since the last patron left. You’re thankful for this, for even though the bard’s voice is one that rivals that of a most holy angel, you sometimes long to just listen to him play his lute. The sounds are made ever sweeter by the music of the rain and the all-encompassing scent accompanying it, something earthy and old, older than time itself. You rest your head against the windowsill, drifting into daydreams about roaring waves, wood creaking under long, calloused fingers, wet rivulets of rain dripping down collars, and blue eyes that snatch your breath without care of you needing it back.

    Alas, you were not allowed long to lose yourself in this dream, the thunder cracking and rumbling across the sky, echoing through the little tavern and sending your mind darting back to your body in an electric jolt. Jaskier notices you start, and moves to gather his journal, tucking it and his lute into his case.. Slinging it across his back in a well-rehearsed move, he moves towards your table where your heart is still beating a bit quicker than normal. 

    “You know, you don’t have to stay down here with me,” the bard says with a small smile. “I can take care of myself.”

    “Well, while Geralt may let you roam into any royal pantry you please, I’d like to make sure you keep your head attached to your shoulders,” you quip back, earning a small chuckle in return. You tuck these little moments away, when you both can allow yourselves the luxury of laughter and peace instead of the relentless march of death and misery and heroics that Geralt follows. You’d never admit it, but you’ve found that the only thing that keeps you remotely sane these days is the lively man in front of you, surprising you at every turn. 

    What always surprises you most is how freely he gives his affections. Every kind person that he meets gets his light touches, his honeyed words, and his smile that could make even the most crotchety Witcher’s lips turn up at the edges. You’ve gotten all of this, but you’re so hungry for more. You’ve had a taste of his allure, and you’re addicted. He is your weakness, and you are terrified of him ever finding out. He could have just about any person on the Continent, why would he ever give you more than what he already gives so easily. 

    Jaskier holds out a hand, which you accept, rising to your feet. Your foot catches on the edge of the table though, and you tumble forward. Jaskier gracefully catches your fall, his hands steady around your waist and your hands latching onto his doublet and you never want to let him go. You’re close enough to be sharing the same breath, and Jaskier whispers your name with a reverence usually only employed for prayers to the gods.

    “Are you alright?” His voice has shifted, rumbling through you like the thunder, untamed and powerful. You bring your eyes to his, intent on answering that you’re absolutely fine, thank you very much. But when your gazes lock, it is like all of the world is holding its breath, with only the rain pattering on the windows to signal that the continuation of time. Jaskier’s hands around you tighten, and you settle into them, regaining your footing but not stepping away. Your hands slowly move up his shoulders, catching on the little threads and seams. When your fingers ghost onto his exposed collar, you feel rather than hear his breath hitch and he gently pulls your body tighter to his. You’re both moving as if pulled by a siren song, one that you’ve never heard or sang but know the words to nonetheless. Jaskier rests his forehead against yours, tenderly brushing his nose with yours. Your eyes flutter closed, not believing what they’re seeing as though your dream from earlier never actually ended. 

    “May I kiss you?” you hear him whisper, and you can almost feel his lips move against yours as he says it. You smile to yourself, moving ever so slightly to tilt your head up to meet him.

    “I would be quite disappointed if you didn’t,” you murmur, and before you can take another breath his lips have captured yours for just a moment, still hesitant and careful. He pulls back, worried that he’s pushed too far, but your lips chase and meet his once more. It’s as if all of the stars in the sky have aligned as you melt into his embrace. Your fingers thread into his hair, earning a sound born of pure sin deep in the bard’s chest. You suckle on his lip, licking into his mouth as he grants you further access. He tastes of sage and citrus, painting pure sunshine in the torrential downpour on the other side of the doors. A groan is pulled from your chest, a question and a promise in the sound. 

    You pull back from each other, still holding fast and sharing the same space. One of Jaskier’s hands cups your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as you catch your breath.

“Jaskier,” his name spilling from your mouth like pebbles along the bottom of a rushing river, “stay with me tonight.”

His mouth turns up into a smile, one filled with more hope and pleasure than you’ve ever had the good fortune of witnessing. He gently grasps your hands, leading you backwards to the little room you’re taking refuge from the storm in.

You tumble across the threshold, lips never parting, Jaskier’s foot kicking the door closed as he pushes you further into the room. You feel the bed at the back of your legs, and you push your hands under his open doublet, sliding it off of his shoulders. The garment hits the floor, and with his hands freed, Jaskier grasps the sides of your face, pulling back only enough to get air. You move your hands to his, grateful for any piece of him you can grasp. 

“I am afraid I am a fool, love,” he says, gently lacing his fingers through your hair, releasing it from its simple tie at the back of your head. Your hair flutters down like letting out a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, and you peer at Jaskier hoping that he’ll elaborate without you prompting. Ever predictable, he continues, his whispers warming your cheeks with every word. Less predictable, however, are the words he says.

“I feel as though I’ve loved you since the moment you entered my life,” he murmurs. “You filled a hole in my life that I didn’t know was empty, and I am terrified of finding it hollow once more.”

You feel your eyes start to glisten, holding Jaskier impossibly tight. You gather every bit of courage that you carry, and say, barely louder than a whisper, “Then I too am a fool, for I have been trying to win your heart not knowing that it was already mine.”

You bring your mouth back to his, rekindling the heat with your confession. Your hands travel back to his chest, the fabric of his chemise soft and worn with time. You pull the hem of the shirt from where it is tucked in and Jaskier lifts his arms, breaking your kiss only for the time it takes for the shirt to join the doublet on the ground. His arms wrap around your waist, lips meeting yours once more, firm and persistent. Your nails scratch lightly through the hair on his chest as his fingers move to the laces at the front of your blouse. You notice he’s quite good at multi-tasking, unlacing your shirt while also kicking off his boots, making you a little jealous since it feels like you wouldn’t be able to form two coherent thoughts while in his arms.

Jaskier’s hands push your blouse down your arms, his mouth moving to any newly exposed skin, kissing and suckling every place he can reach. His hands, calloused and rough from years of music and travel, leave goosebumps in their wake as they travel to your back, intent on unlacing your corset. Your hands travel down, down his chest to his waist, finding him warm and wanting. You palm him through his light trousers, and you feel his fingers lose their place, lost to his own pleasure. He regains himself quickly though and practically tears the damned thing off of you, discarding it with the rest of your clothing. 

His hands find purchase on your hips and he pushes you backwards, forcing you to sit on the edge of the bed. Jaskier moves to his knees, pulling your boots off and chucking them dramatically over his shoulder. You chuckle lightly, pushing back a stray piece of hair from his forehead, cradling his face in your palm. He sighs and leans into your touch, content with this moment of tenderness amidst the desire. 

“This is how I feel every time you grace me with your smile or your laugh, sweeter than any song I could ever dream of writing, drawn to my knees to worship you without a second thought,” Jaskier utters, running his hands up your thighs. Your eyes prickle at the honesty, the overwhelming joy of caring and being cared for in return. Your hands find his and you stand, leaving him kneeling before you. You bring his hands to the laces on your trousers, with an unspoken request. Jaskier sits up, leaving hot kisses along your stomach while he deftly unties the laces. He hooks his fingers into the waist of the pants and pulls them, along with your smallclothes, to the floor, where you carefully step out of them. He moves to stand, hands sliding up your legs and under your chemise. You’re not sure you’ve ever been touched quite like this before, as if he is feeling skin for the first and last time. Your skin is kissed by the cool air in the room as it is exposed, Jaskier standing to his full height and lifting the undershirt over your head. It soon joins everything else on the floor, and you are finally blissfully bare before him. 

He hums appreciatively before taking your hands in his and takes a few steps back, resting his weight against the wall behind him. He plants a lingering kiss to your fingertips before lowering them to his trousers. Your hands tremble, not something born of anxiety, but of impatience. We should really wear fewer layers you think to yourself as you untangle the knot that secures the band of his pants. Your hands slide along his hips, and you move them downward, bringing the trousers and underclothes with you. You wind up kneeling with one knee on the floor, and you help Jaskier step out of the clothes. You lift your gaze, and are met with the most beautiful view you’ve ever seen. His cock is standing proud, flushed and straining with arousal. You flick your eyes back to his, silently asking permission. He lets out a trembling breath and nods, never breaking your gaze. You settle between his legs, gently running your nails up his legs, scratching the hairs and feeling the muscles that twitch beneath your touch. 

You let out a hum and wrap your hand around the base of his cock, feeling the passion and power and heat. Jaskier’s head is thrown back against the wall with a thunk, gasping out a string of disjointed syllables. His name falls from your lips, and you lean forward, trailing the flat of your tongue from your hand up his length, circling the tip before pulling him into your mouth. He still tastes of sage and citrus, but there’s something else, something distinctly Jaskier, and it’s intoxicating. You moan around him, pulling him in further and his knees buckle, his fingers threading through your hair and settling at the crown of your head. You move slowly, sliding your lips up and down, giving little twists of your wrist around the base of him. His breath is short and ragged, a gale of wind carrying leaves and flowers and promises. Your free hand glides up to his chest and back down his leg and back up again, this time roving to his backside and giving a little squeeze. His cock twitches in your mouth and you taste the salt of his arousal, just barely pearling at his tip. You suck in your cheeks and release him, the pop echoing in the little room. Your hand still works itself along the length of his cock, twisting at the end, then suddenly Jaskier stutters out your name. You release him, sitting back on your heels and looking up at him, quirking an eyebrow.

    He is so beautiful like this, chest heaving and flushed, hair pointing every direction, putty beneath your fingers. He’s fucked out on the feeling of you, and you can’t help the little swell of pride that washed through you. Jaskier holds out a hand, just as he did earlier in the evening, and you rest your hand in his. He pulls you up lightly, kissing you until you see stars, his arousal still pressed between your bodies. “Fuck,” he exhales, pulling back to regain some sort of composure. After a heartbeat, his eyes open, glinting with more than a little mischief. He leans down so that his mouth is at your ear, and he whispers, “go lay on the bed, love.”

    You pull out of his grip, lingering at his hands, gently pulling him with you towards the bed. You lay back, sinking down into the pillows’ soft embrace. Jaskier climbs after you, settling himself so he is straddling over you. He settles back onto his heels, looming over you. He reminds you of old tales of the gods walking among humans, and in this moment, you can believe them all. He reaches to you, his hand snaking to the back of your neck to pull you into a searing kiss. His other hand moves to your breast, kneading the soft flesh until you arch further into him with a gasp. The hand behind your head pulls you to the side, exposing your neck for his attention. He leaves little kisses along your jaw as he moves, finding a spot just under your ear that makes you whine with the barest touch. He deepens the kiss there, sucking a mark into the sensitive skin. Both of his hands are on your breasts now, and it is all you can do to run your hands along whatever skin of his you can find. Jaskier pushes you back so that you are laying once more, and he takes each of the raised peaks of your breasts in his mouth before moving to settle between your thighs. 

    “May I?” He asks, and you gulp, nodding feverishly. You’re sure that even if you had tried to answer with words, they wouldn’t have made any sense with how mindless in arousal you are. He pushes your knees up and apart, laying on his stomach so that he is level with your sex. Jaskier’s hands run up your legs, meeting at the apex of your thighs, and he spreads his thumbs to meet at your center. He parts you, fully invested in his inquiry into your pleasure. His tongue runs along the length of your cunt, suckling at the bundle of nerves at the top. Every nerve feels like it’s on fire, every muscle seizes, everything outside of this little room ceases to exist. Your hands fly to his hair, hips rocking like a ship in a storm against his mouth, your head falling back against the pillows, eyes screwed shut. Jaskier drinks you like a man who has never known water, or ale, or apple juice, and now never wants to know. He swirls his tongue around your clit, humming at the taste of your pleasure. Words are tumbling from your mouth like the rain against the windows, constant and indistinguishable noises of gratitude, prayer, and pleas for more, more.

    Jaskier shifts so that he has one arm draped across your hips, holding you down, and with his other hand he thrusts two fingers inside of you, intent on learning you as well as he’s learned his instruments, for he’s sure that you would make the most beautiful music. As he withdraws them only to thrust them back in and again and again, you lift your head to look down at him only to find his piercing blue eyes already on you. Your hands tighten in the priceless silk of his hair, causing him to suckle, thrust, and moan against you all at the same time, and the relentless storm is suddenly inside of the room. Every color you’ve ever seen flashes behind your eyes, there is a dull roar of thunder in your ears, and every wall you’ve ever built in yourself cracks and shatters under his watchful eye. In that moment, there is everything, and nothing. 

    Jaskier brings you back to yourself, his attentions never wavering. He coaxes you back down and kisses the inside of your thigh as he climbs to hover over you once more. You pull him down, tasting yourself on his mouth, dragging a gravelly moan from your chest at the feel of his cock, still warm and weighty and wanting against your stomach. You hook your legs up and around his hips, trying to pull him ever closer to you. His forehead rests against yours as he looks down, lining himself at your entrance. Jaskier brings his eyes back to you as he pushes forward, slowly sheathing himself in one smooth motion. He stills, letting you adjust to him. You feel so wonderfully full, and you gently clench yourself around him. His head falls to your shoulder, his lips against your neck. 

“Fuck,” he grits, his voice marbles on cobblestone, “do that again.”

You squeeze once more, and Jaskier only growls, low and long. He pushes himself up to rest on his hands before he moves his hips, pulling almost fully out of you. You whine at the loss of touch, only for the sound to puncture itself as he drives so impossibly deep within you. You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, grasping for some semblance of reality in this world of bliss. He sets a steady pace, but it is too soon not nearly enough. One of your hands falls to knead your breast, looking for any friction to bring you further. With a deep, guttural sound, Jaskier loops his arm under your waist and shifts his weight so that he pulls you so you’re sitting in his lap. 

He fucks up into you, hard, spearing up into you, finding the spot within you that makes you feel like you could devastate planets from existence. The sound that spills from you is a mix between a gasp and a prayer, trying so desperately to hold onto something anything in this moment. You feel Jaskier everywhere, every angle inside of you, every touch, every kiss, every huff of breath along your skin. Outside, lightning strikes to ground and your own lightning flies up your spine, a strangled cry falling from your lips as your storm washes away the rest of the world. Your cunt clenches Jaskier like a vice, and his teeth sink into your neck as his pleasure overtakes him. You’re oversensitive, but you gently rock against him, coaxing every last moment of euphoria from him. 

As he comes back to himself, you stroke your hand along his face and pull him into a kiss, still passionate but now sated. Jaskier pulls himself out of you and you feel his spend trail down your thigh. He lays you back down onto the bed and stands, moving to the little dresser to retrieve a small damp cloth. When he returns, he leans in for another kiss, gently moving the cloth along your body to get you clean. He throws the cloth over his shoulder with the same ridiculous bravado as earlier when he finishes and climbs back into the bed, pulling you to lay against his side with your head against his chest. You feel his thumb brush along your arm, and as you rest a hand on his chest, you find comfort in the sound of his heart, strong and steady, lulling you to sleep. 

*Geralt loves the sound of rain, but Gods does he wish it was a little bit louder so he didn’t have to hear everything from the next room over.

[nerdyfangirl67]

My Angel - Phantom of the Opera Reader Insert (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Phantom/Erik x reader

Warnings: Erik insecurities, dark thoughts and feelings

Word count: 2090

A/N: Hey y’all. I am trying to finish up the next chapter and am not sure if I am going to expand it or not. If I’m lucky, and y’all are too, then I will have the next chapter, whether it is the last one or not, out by Friday. Thanks for reading and requests are always open!

----Chapter 2----

You spent every day tirelessly working in the opera house, scrubbing floors, dusting fixtures, and hand washing delicate costumes.

You spend every evening in the tunnels, relaxing to the wondrous music your angel composes. You had noticed a change in his music, one that you rather enjoyed. No longer was his music dark and full of melancholy, but it had become bright and inspiring and full of hope. You were unaware of what brought about this change, but it warmed you nonetheless. You finally felt as though your angel was no longer in constant darkness and pain.

As the music got more hopeful, you started staying longer and longer in the tunnels. Many a night you spent wrapped in your warmest winter cloak, the music of your angel lulling you into soft and dreamless sleep. You had even written a few more letters for your angel, proclaiming your deepening feelings for the phantom figure.

My angel,

The nights I have spent here in this balcony, listening to the music you create, has been some of the best of my life. I cannot imagine a future without you in it. You have brought a certain light into my life that I had not known I had been missing.

It’s like you hold the missing piece of my heart, the piece that reveals who I truly am and whenever I am near you, I feel whole. I feel that I am the truest, most honest version of myself when I am around you. It’s as if your music is a reflection of my soul, entwined forever with yours. Forever and always

This was the only letter you had managed to keep track of because for some reason you always manage to misplace them. Regardless, you continued to write them, each one revealing more of your feelings than the last.

-PHANTOM-

The letters always seemed to appear as if by magic. After he had found the first one, he had been quite sure it was all in his imagination, because who with a sane mind would have such deep feelings for him. He was after all a true monster with a rock cold heart, a man who was obsessed with the idea of a soprano of his own, a ghost who would not even look at his own reflection in the mirror.

Yet, the letters kept coming, all appearing in random places. He had found one wedged underneath the edge of his organ and another stuck to the damp shore of the underground river in his cavern. There had even been one precariously hanging near the flame of a candle by his bed. A few he had found had been ruined to the point that they were unsalvageable. Finding those letters had hurt. Everything in him had ached to read the words that those letters had contained. He felt connected to the writer of these letters, even though he didn’t know her. Every letter, every word melted his long dead heart just a little bit more, making him feel more human for the first time in years.

His warming feelings translated over into his music. New melodies swirled around in his head, completely obliterating the dark motifs that had dominated much, if not all, of his musical compositions. His music since reading those letters had taken on an almost giocoso tone, something he had never thought would happen in his music.

Now, he spent the time he was not composing, which oddly had become more frequent as of late, looking for this mysterious admirer. He still did not know where this celestial being was hiding or even when she was listening, but the mere thought that she was listening made each moment at the organ that much more intriguing.

The time he spent in the shadows became less about watching those running his opera house, and more about observing those in the Opera Populaire in hopes of finding his admirer. Everything inside him, that was not committed to music, was devoted to finding his angel. Even just knowing her from her letters had made him protective of her. He knew when he met her, he would feel connected to her in a way he never had with anyone else.

Although his life felt brighter for the first time in what seemed like forever, the wicked gloom of doubt and self-hatred still overtook his thoughts. Time and time again, the words of those letters would enter his thoughts and he would be ridden with a sick twisted feeling of uncertainty and suspicion.

An all consuming rage usually followed and was accompanied by the smashing of mirrors in disgust, the burning of half-finished compositions and even an explosive burst of funry in which he had run straight into the underground river to destroy his elaborate candelabras. He felt such intense anger with these thoughts because he could not fathom in these moments, why anyone would feel for him so intensely.

----

There had been a time before this, before the letters, when he had thought that maybe he was deserving of the love of a beautiful young woman. A woman who was his star pupil and lived to sing his music. A woman who lived for the opera as he did.

Yet he had been wrong then. Christine had been deeply in love with Raoul and finding out that she would do anything to live her life with him had crushed him. He had been devoted to her, to showing her what she meant to him.

He had not come out of the Christine - Raoul fiasco with just insecurities of the human nature. He had become a darker, colder version of himself with even the mere thought of either Christine or Raoul giving him an intense mix of burning hatred and rage and a crushing feeling of inadequacy. He also had developed a very deep lack of faith in the concept of love.

Her rejection was a large part of why he struggled to believe the words in the letters. He could hardly believe having the opportunity to fall in love with one woman of such beauty and grace but to become connected with another, who saw him for who he truly was, and have her love, well he found that nearly impossible.

Reading the letters also had him questioning if he was even good enough to have the love of such an understanding woman. Although he had yet to meet his admirer, he felt that he would never be good enough for anyone to love him.

----

He spent many a night on the organ, practicing and perfecting the compositions that he created. This was one of those nights, but it felt different somehow. There was a charge in the air, crawling over his skin and pricking his nerves. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, sending his heart into overdrive and causing him to play with an intense frenzy. Music he had never played before, music he had not even written, was flying from his fingertips. Sweat was dripping down his brow, causing his face under his mask to itch. He rips it off, irritated by the distraction, and continues to play with fever.

— YOUR POV —

The music he played that night was phenomenal. The emotions raging through the phrases and dynamic changes had your heart pounding. You could barely breathe as the music tapered off into a gentle melody that you were straining to hear. Only a moment later, he was back to rapidly pounding on the keys, causing your heart to jump into your throat.

That night you listen to him play for hours, never feeling the slightest bit tired and when he finally stops, you stand, your body moving without you telling it to. You are moving towards the cavern, or where you believe the cavern to be, as you have never actually been in it. It is as if a string is tied tightly around your heart and pulling you directly towards your angel, you other half, and the only person you had ever felt so strongly connected to.

Even though you have no idea where you are going, you are in the cavern only a few short moments later. You slowly make your way towards your angel, who is currently sitting at the organ and furiously writing.

This was it. For the first time in a very long time, it felt as though you were home. The sound of a pen scribbling on parchment felt normal. The coolness of the air in the cavern felt natural. The musk of damp earth and burning wax felt homey. Never had you felt so comfortable and at home in a place you had just entered. But, walking into this place felt like coming home after being away for days, months, years. If this was the last place you ever came to in your life, you would be complete. You quickly come to the conclusion that the person who was in this place with you was what really made it home. You felt as though your heart was beating in time with his, even though you could not hear it, pulling your soul even closer to his.

You allow yourself one breath to steel your nerves before you clear your throat and call, “My angel of music.”

The man whirls around, clutching a desperate hand to one side of his face. Peeking through his fingers are glimpses of angry red, scarred flesh. You watch as he swiftly picks up his mask and pulls it tight against his face.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” His voice floats over you like thick, smooth velvet, causing you to let out a deep sigh of appreciation.

After an awkward moment of silence, you realize that the man is waiting for your response. “You are my angel. Your music dominates my mind and has since the day I arrived here. You are the one my soul is connected to and I wish to spend every day I have left in your presence.” Your heart is thudding against your chest as you wait for a response.

He searches your face, his eyes locking with yours for several beats. He takes a tentative step towards you, his hand hovering nervously near your face, as if he is unsure whether he should touch you or not.

You take a small step closer to him, gently grabbing his gloved hand and pulling it in towards your chest, resting it against your racing heart.

“You wrote the letters.” It is not a question, but rather an observation. You slowly nod your head, afraid of what he would say next.

He does not speak for a long while, simply watching you instead. When he does speak, he pulls his hand away from you. Your heart is in your throat as you struggle to tamp down the anxiety that is starting to consume you. “You wrote that you feel I am a part of you. Why? You do not know who I am.” His voice is deep, darkness lingering behind his words and his eyes flash.

Everything inside you wants to cringe away from him in fear, but you know that is what he is expecting you to do. Instead, you straighten up, your eyes locked on his as you respond.

“I wrote that because your music is thrumming through my veins and has become a part of me.” You pause for a moment, steeling your confidence before continuing. “It is more than your music. I feel connected with you. What you feel, I feel. Your soul is entwined with mine.” As you finish, you close the distance between the two of you. You slowly move to pick up one of his hands, placing it over your heart before taking the other and placing it over his own heart.

“Our hearts, they beat in unison.” You whisper as you study him.

“Mon cher, I feel it.” His voice is gentle as he hesitantly moves his hand from your heart to your cheek. “Tu es à moi, mon cher.” His switch to French has your heart growing in your chest.

“Play for me my angel.” You whisper, clasping his hand in yours as you move towards the organ.

“Mon cher, call me Erik. That is my real name and there is no one else I would rather have call me that, than you.” He whispers back, his breath tickling your ear as he lets you lead him to the organ.

[throwawaythinking]

ERYS

“People love to just talk about me by name and say, "Oh, Jaden Smith this, Jaden Smith that." It’s time for a new awakening and a new consciousness.” - Jaden on his album SYRE, Complex Magazine November 2017

Jaden Christopher Syre Smith was the boy born into the shadow of his father’s fame. However he took his birth into the public eye as an opportunity, not a blessing. Jaden uses music to make a name for himself, fighting to bring his own identity out of the shadows of his famous father. Smith’s second album, ERYS, details Erys emerging from the death of his opposingly naive and Icarus-like self, Syre. Jaden depicts the rise, fall, and conflict of his autobiographical character Erys in four tracks; ‘i-drip-or-is’, ‘Again’, ‘Got It’, and ‘Fire Dept’; these four songs are the centrefold of the entire album, where Erys becomes Syre and Syre becomes Erys. Through Erys’ aggressive and angry flaunting of his perceived power, Jaden explores the recklessness of an overinflated ego. Erys becomes a successful drug dealer for the drug ‘Vision’ in Los Angeles, however the money and power eat away at him as he overestimates his ability to control ‘Vision’. This is assisted by the internal conflict between Erys and Syre, as Syre’s gentle and lost voice wanders throughout the tracks urging Erys to understand that his reckless behaviour won’t fix their problems. The introduction of internal conflict within ERYS expresses the integrity of Jaden’s inner conflicts during the process of finding his true identity, how his polar opposite identities had to converge at a point to create a completed state of being. This conflict is also used to address the taboo of adolescence in relation to drug culture. Jaden’s “strict, hard rap album” is a force to be reckoned with; “every song, back to back, high tempo, a lot of bass like just crazy.”

Without context, Jaden’s music is the amalgamation of the typical hip-hop genre; autotune, models, drugs, cars, power, fame. By manipulating these features, Jaden uses hip-hop to his advantage in creating an egotistical Erys. ‘i-drip-or-is’ boasts;

“LV head to toe, MSFTS necklace on

They be stressin' 'cause I'm reckless and I'm flexin' hard

Flexin' super hard, she a superstar

With the stupid car, and it's supercharged

Rolex, he went to Luther, got my jeweler far”,

luxury brand names flying throughout the first verse, the picture is set. Interestingly, Erys has already acknowledged his tendency to be reckless in the second line, yet the context provides evidence that he believes this to be a good quality. Erys’ ego continues on in the next track, ‘Again’, where Erys talks about his fame, money and power;

“Now the gang got no shit to do, they just a chatterbox

Now I wear a muzzle to the bank, because I laugh a lot

Now I tell the paparazzi "Turn the fucking cameras off"”

gangs are out of the drug business as a result of Erys’ ‘Vision’ drug, he laughs so loud at the bank that they muzzle him, and he is being plastered all over the press. Thanks to Erys’ drug dealing business, he has achieved all facets considered for an individual to be successful. As a result, Erys believes he has solved his problem with his love interest as depicted in ‘Got It’;

“She want that brand new designer, that Louis bandana

I told her I got it

She want that wrist with the water and Virgil the wallet

I told her I got it

She said her ex n**** wildin' and giving her problems

I told her I got it.”

But this is not the end of the story. As Erys parties on top of the world, ‘Vision’ gets the better of him, and we see his collapse in the fastest song on the album, ‘Fire Dept’. Erys’ monotonous voice screams through the electric guitar and banging drums;

“Go fire department, call my mom

Said, "Your son dancin' on fire, it's all night long"

I think I just decided, need a ride home

95 percent, I go hard, still killing the vibe though”,

as he realises he needs urgent help. The last line pierces through the ears. Erys is acknowledging that he is losing energy coming down from 100 percent to 95, yet refusing to believe his power is dying, claiming to be “still killing the vibe”. Ego has trapped him in a state of denial. As the song progresses, Erys’ drug-induced screeches become more aggressive and the tempo increases, confessing “I think I lost my car/I can't see straight, I'm fucked” pokes out through the madness of his nonsensical rambling about his surroundings. Erys has lost control.

Erys’ rise to the top pushed him to his limits, and he has fallen as fast as he has risen. This short lived spark of incomprehensible power perfectly demonstrates the double edged sword of the human ego. Erys’ ego pushed him to reach incredible milestones of not only material success, but likely impossible spiritual experiences created by his drug ‘Vision’. However ego becomes an external force with no intention to cooperate with human ability, and pushes Erys to OD on ‘Vision’, resulting in his reckless regression. Jaden has become a master swordsmith with his storytelling genius, with ego being his deadliest double edged sword sticking out of ERYS as a forever-imminent threat. The concept of ego courses like blood through the body of four explosive tracks. Ego is a perilous feat of humanity, and Erys is being destroyed by his.

If one listened intently to the tracks, they would notice a solitary voice wafting through ‘Again’ and ‘Fire Dept’. This is Syre, trapped in the dark by the emergence of Erys. Audibly, Syre is juxtaposed against Erys by tenderly singing instead of belligerently rapping. Additionally, Erys’s voice has been manipulated by autotune of various degrees, which distinguishes Jaden’s natural voice for Syre. Syre’s presence in Erys’ rise is the most pertinent feat of ERYS because this is what makes Erys human. Syre may have died, however the true parts of his soul remain, his real thoughts and feelings. In ‘Again’, the music fades and echoes. Syre emerges singing of the girl he loves and how he has become adrift; “Girl, we can paint such a pretty life…I admit I'm lost, can I hitch a ride?/Something bout your voice, like a lullaby.” Yet Erys interrupts Syre’s digression with frustration;

“Who the fuck turned this shit on, n****

I told you don't play no motherfucking wack shit

Big drip only”.

It is tacit Erys is fighting to silence his inner self, believing that his new behaviour is the only way to overcome his hardship as it has worked on his external image. This also explains why Erys feels the need to always drop big luxury brands in his lyrics (particularly in ‘i-drip-or-is’ and ‘Again’), because the clothing he wears on his body is a conspicuous external composition of his ability to succeed. As Syre mentioned their love interest, Erys comes back with ‘Got It’, as described earlier, being an entire song about how he can now provide for the girl that they once couldn’t help. This feeds into the psyche of Erys believing that he is better off living the life that he has now, because on paper it all makes sense. Syre makes another appearance after Erys goes off the deep end at the end of ‘Fire Dept’ and continues his digression about his love interest;

“Think about

Your life

Too much

I'm losin' light

I'm cruising on

I think a lot

I think about

You a lot

Too much

Do too much

I should be movin' on

(For sure).”

This time, Erys cannot fight Syre’s appearance, and the song ends without interruption.

The conflict between Syre and Erys is a trademark of adolescent growth. Jaden uses this conflict to show how he had suppressed his true emotions by using drugs and money as a bandaid on his emotional and spiritual wounds. This is a common trend in adolescence, to believe that material wealth or a chemical alteration of the brain is the only solution to fixing hard problems. Syre and Erys’ conflict cries at our unforgiving society for help, for the aid that adolescents so desperately need to deal with their struggles. It seems that the youth do not have the resources they need to navigate a life that is expected of them, and thus they cope with what is available - drug culture. Just as Erys learnt to push ‘Vision’ across the city of Los Angeles, young people dealing with problems beyond their control resort to drug taking or dealing to handle their problems, and it destroys them just as Erys has been destroyed - even if they know deep down that drugs won’t fix their problems.

Syre and Erys also represent Jaden’s state of being. The conflict between the two characters is a metaphorical picture of Jaden’s internal fight against himself in his journey to finding his true identity. It is no question that Jaden Smith would’ve lived perfectly fine under the care of his father, yet he chooses to make his own name. This makes him a striking individual due to the immense care he takes in creating his true identity. By creating conflict between his two characters, Jaden immortalizes his story in his own words. He immortalizes the importance of finding one’s true identity, and inspires the youth of his generation to do the same. Syre and Erys eventually go on to merge into one person; Jaden. The existence of this resolution is an integral part of urging young people to become their real selves, because it shows that having a true identity is real, and achievable.

Jaden’s second album ERYS supersedes expectations of a boy born into fame and privilege. Following the completion of the SYRE and ERYS projects, Jaden is showing the world that he is more than his family name. Often teenagers want the world to understand they are their own person with their own dreams, feelings, desires and struggles. Jaden, in my opinion, expressed this best.

[dracosearlgreytea]

indelicate marks (11)

indelicate marks: chapter eleven - the accusation 

A/N: aaa okay so heres the next chapter! ive been lowkey stressed about posting this chapter as it took a lot to write, but i hope you enjoy it.. thank you so so so much for the increased support from everyone, if i havent replied to a comment dw i do read them! they literally transform my day no matter how i feel, so yeah just thank you. lotsa love - ivy 

warnings: language, strong descriptions of ptsd/reliving bad memories, graphic descriptions of deep cuts and bleeding

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse @thatoneasrastan @biinspiration @honeymelon22

indelicate marks index 

January and February, after the first meeting of the year, passed by quiet. Draco's state was getting worse. Every time you'd see him, even when you'd met twice a week, something about him was growing... darker. Sometimes it wasn't just the bags under his eyes, or the sharpness of his cheekbones. Sometimes it was the way his tone never lifted out of the monotonous state he tended to abandon around you. Sometimes it was the way he could hardly hold a conversation, or the anxiety would overwhelm him and you'd have to sit with him tucked into your chest, praying that his breathing would settle soon. But, somehow, within the misery that hung over the two of you, you also managed to find the friend you had waited so long for. Draco was funny. Dry, and witty, and frustratingly funny. The things that he'd say as a passing comment could make you double over in laughter. You'd always find his lips shooting up into that wicked grin you'd grown to adore. That smile was something you'd find few and far between, and its rarity only settled it closer to your heart. He was smart, too - a lot less stupid that he made himself out to be. Draco could easily give Granger a run for her money, if he wanted to. He had a secret passion for Muggle literature. Something, which you found out totally by mistake  - and continued to bring up at any given opportunity just to annoy him. To your utter shock, Draco also played piano. He'd described an organ, back in Malfoy Manor. His parents would usually enchant to play by itself - but, his mother had still taken it upon herself to teach him how to play it when he was a child. The insights he offered you into his life were quite frankly fascinating. It was still odd. The dynamic between you was never quite settled; impermanent. There were little things you found yourself holding onto. Like his smile, or the way he frowned when he listened to you talk, as though he was really focusing on your words.   Since your realisation at the beginning of the year, your affections for Draco had only grown. Most of the time, you'd manage to ignore it, only swallowing back the flutters in your chest. Because there was no way you could fancy Draco Malfoy. There was no way he would ever reciprocate, and there was no way it could ever work between you even if he did. And, it was nice. Being friends with someone. You could cope with the darkness he carried. You could cope with pushing away any indication of your developing attachment to him. Having someone to talk to, to even just be around - complicated or not - was a privilege you had never had. But, as much as you attempted to ignore it, the tension at Hogwarts was also getting a lot worse. Trying not to think about what would happen when you had to return home at the end of the year was difficult. Even the idea of having that mark on your arm was sickening. You didn't even want to acknowledge the fact that to take it, you would have to expose the mark that already sat on your forearm. Most likely, to the Dark Lord himself. The glares got worse. The comments got more threatening. Walking the corridors was not safe for you. Not when your parents had killed so many families of the students around you. It hadn't exactly been before, but now, with that suffocating atmosphere, it had only gotten worse. Keeping a firm grip on your wand at all times was second nature, at this point. You had been on your way to a meeting with Draco when your fears became too real. The feeling of someone following you had been tugging at your conscious for most of the day. But then, most people were watching you, anyway, eyes lingering on you in every hall or classroom you passed through. So, you'd only shrugged it off as your paranoia overreacting. It was still light. With winter beginning to pass, the nights were growing shorter. Weekly trips to the classroom were no longer spent in the dark, much to your appreciation. Just as you reached the last staircase leading to the third floor, it jumped into action. It swung away from your destination, and you ground your teeth, hanging onto the railings. Again, you only passed your mistake off as a busy mind - until you glanced behind you. The previous staircase had also moved. A distinct dread began to poison your gut. With the piece of staircase behind you gone, your only choice was to progress onto wherever this one would take you. You swallowed, staring up as the stairs docked. It lead onto a one-way corridor, a piece of the castle that was rarely used, and a quiver ran over your hand as you wrapped your fingers around your wand. Slipping it from your back pocket, you finally shifted. Someone wanted you in that corridor. Someone wanted you cornered. The second you stepped off of the stairs, it jolted away from you, only confirming your assumption. Stranded in the corridor, the lack of windows cast an eerie shadow down its length. There was only two classrooms coming off the sides, and one at the end - most likely locked, with a spell more powerful than 'alohamora' would fix. Edging forwards, you flung your eyes around you. Your heart was thudding dangerously in your chest - it was currently dinner. No one would be around to help if something happened, assuming anyone would help you. Draco was unlikely to come searching for you if you turned up late, waiting on the opposite side of the moving staircases. You only hoped you could reach the stairs before something bad could happen to you. Pausing, your eyes met the end doorway. It was ajar. You pressed yourself against the wall as you shifted closer - the opening only offered to show you a slice of darkness within. Someone could be, however, waiting for you inside. Hoping your curiosity would get the better of you. Preparing to jump you. Setting your wand upright and poised, you lifted your hand, before shoving the door open. Only, before you could get a glimpse inside, it had slammed shut in your face. You stumbled back a couple steps, true panic setting in. "Was it you?" A voice came from behind you. You'd walked straight into a trap. Taking in a shuddering breath, you spun to face the voice. A flicker of your brow, and you stared at the figure blocking the end of the corridor. "Potter?" He had emerged from one of the classrooms either side of you, wand clenched in his fist and eyes hard. Stupid, you're so stupid, you should have checked. "Was it you, Y/N?" Harry repeated, watching you with an unpredictable atmosphere to him. "Did you curse the necklace?" It took a second for any words to form on your lips. Your mind was going to into overdrive. Harry would not hurt you intentionally, you knew that much - he wasn't that type of person. But what he could do unintentionally... "I don't know what you're talking about." You said. Attempting to appeal to whatever friendship you'd had last year, you kept your voice as clear and honest as you could. Harry, however, did not shift. "It was you, or Malfoy." His voice lilted with questioning, and your jaw tightened. You had to remind yourself to keep breathing, act natural, even at the mention of Draco. Shit, what the fuck has Draco been doing? I know it's bad - it's the Dark Lord - but Merlin, if Harry is involved... "I said," You forced an eyebrow up at Harry in emphasis. "I don't know what you're talking about." Voice gruff, relief flooded through you. You'd managed to keep your composition. There was a million scenarios involving Draco running through your mind, and you bit back a shudder. "Then prove you're not one of them." Shit. Harry had gestured to your arm with his wand. You grew rigid in terror, a shaking whisper falling from your lips before you could swallow it back. "What?" "Show me your arm, and prove to me you're not a Deatheater." Harry said, voice a lot more forceful than before. No, no. No, this can't be happening - he wouldn't - he can't - "I don't have to prove anything to you, Potter." You spat - but there was no denying the quiver in your words. Sickness curling in the pit of your stomach, you clutched your wand, scrutinising Harry's every little movement. He shifted. It was so, so slight. Maybe he was moving towards you, maybe he was only adjusting his stance. It didn't matter, because before you could think, you raised your wand and shouted the first thing that came to mind. "Stupify-" "Expelliarmus!" You could only watch in utter horror as your wand flew through the air and clattered to the ground. All the way at the other end of the corridor. Behind Harry. No, no, no- You couldn't move. Frozen. It was as though you were in that cupboard again. Crushed against the wall, watching as two boys enchanted a blade and laughed at the way you choked for breath. "It's okay, Deatheater. You're going to get your mark soon." Harry was moving towards you now. You stumbled, falling back against the door, hands coming to press down on the handle. Locked. No escape. Breathing frantic, you could only stare at Harry with wide, angry eyes. You didn't speak as he grabbed your left arm, pulling it out in front of you. No, you didn't even struggle. You were still in that fucking broom cupboard. Harry's fingers burnt horribly against your skin, pushing up your sleeve. His eyes lingered on you as he did so, long enough to make your skin crawl. Then, he looked down. It burnt. Burnt, as though Harry had struck a match and put it to your flesh. He came to stare at you again, falling a few strides away from you as you snatched your arm back to your chest. You wanted to shout - no, scream at him, but you could do nothing but hold in the gasps of pain. Harry hadn't seen the blood. He hadn't seen the way the cuts had began to tear open, slowly. Excruciatingly. "Get the fuck away from me." It was hardly a whisper - more some inhuman, animalistic snarl. It was all you could manage. The flames were growing hotter and hotter and you'd forgotten how to breath. My wand. I need my wand. "Y/N - I'm so sorry - I-" "Go!" Something in Harry managed to click, seeing your contorted expression. With one last, horrified look, he turned and rushed away, the stairs swinging back to greet him as he did. The second he was out of sight, you let out a shuddering breath, daring a glance down to the state of your arm. Blood was already spilling down your fingers. It seeped into the fabric of your shirt, like the sea lapping at the shore - but bloodier, and a lot more sickening. "How does it feel to bleed, Deatheater? I bet you're fucking enjoying it, you sicko, just like your parents did." An involuntary whimper escaped you, unable to contain it with your mind so hazy from panic and pain. Agony was lacing its way up your arm and through your entire body, and you had to remind yourself - your wand. I need my wand. Staggering forward, you focused your gaze on your wand at the end of the corridor. Blood was spilling steadily onto floor, staining your shirt, but you refused to acknowledge it. Groans escaped your throat, scalding pain cutting deeper and deeper into your skin. Feeling the liquid thick on your hands, you, almost instinctively, gave it another look. Your entire sleeve was coated in red. An overwhelming nausea hit your gut. Falling against the wall, you desperately attempted to get your breath, but it only came in short pants. You'd barely made it halfway down the corridor. Harry had taken too long to leave, given the cuts too much time to reopen before the worst kicked in. Last time, with Draco, the reaction had been quick and easy. This time, you were alone, and wandless. Head spinning, you attempted to choke down a deep breath, and pushed forward. Everything was starting to blur a little, your head a spinning mess of thoughts. You couldn't focus. Tired. You felt so tired. You were close. You were so close to grabbing your wand, hands slick with blood as you stretched out your arm, shaking. Another step - a stumble. Your entire body crashed to floor. There was a terrible, harsh blow to the side of your head. Your ears filled with a high buzzing, sight wavering as you stared from your wand only inches away from you, to your left arm. Ten letters, red and clear. Tears rolled down your cheeks, but you didn't recognise them. It hurt, it hurt so bad, you couldn't think, couldn't breath. It was all a blur, really. A blur of torments and whispers. A blur of blade against skin. "Deatheater." "Y/N? Y/N-"

[nonsensical-twistedriddles]

21 - noctambulist

hello hello ! i’m happy to see that you like my writing style and, of course we could be buddies (us newbies gotta stick together) o(TヘTo) くぅit took me a while to figure out the flow of this piece so hopefully you’ll end up liking what i’ve scrounged up for you ! good luck with yours too and stay safe! i’m worried i rushed the ending again hh

📝to note: this is a repost because the initial post somehow got deleted ! the “you” in this story will be taking up the mc role ! also, we’re past 100 followers for this blog ! thank you so much to everyone who’s been supporting me and reading my work, this means a whole lot to me・゜(。┰ω┰。).・゜i don’t have anything in mind right now for a special so, if it’s alright with everyone, i’d like to ask for a few suggestions in regards to this |ω；｀) i haven’t much of a clue on what to do to be honest since this is my first time having a writing blog｡

【 𝔫𝔬𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔪𝔟𝔲𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ; malleus draconia : “ do you, too, dream of me ? “ after returning you to your world, malleus can’t help but feel as though he has lost something. 】

★ warnings: angst, post-overblot ★ 🎵  playlist - i handpicked a few songs for you all to listen to while you read !  ★

━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━

“You’re the only one who can do it,” the wind was playing with your hair, obscuring your face from his eyes though he knew that you were smiling at him. You always smiled at him. “I don’t-,” he starts but cuts himself off. His face scrunches up in pain and reluctance, making him look away in fear of seeing you disappointed. He tries again to tell you but every word in his mouth tastes like goodbye. His expression closes and suddenly he realizes he’s shaking.

Gingerly your fingers reach out to him, pausing when they’re merely inches away from his arms as if hesitating; thinking he’d break at their touch, until you’re finally pulling him into your warm embrace and he presses his cheek onto the top of your head. “I know,” you say tenderly. “I know,” Your arms squeeze him, telling him that you did know. The very thought of that makes his breath hitch and soon the tears he’s been trying desperately to hold back run down from his eyes and into your hair. 

“I know.”

——————————⋆

Memories came to him in half-formed faded dreams, leaving him bleary eyed and distant in the morning. He tries to keep going; attending his classes, eating lunch with his dorm members, doing and finishing his homework, wandering off into the abandoned parts of the premises; everything he did before, but his eyes muddle the world around him, giving him the impression that he’s not actually there but instead drifting into the undulating waves of a cold endless sea.

How are you?

The only time when he’s feeling alive is when he’s sleeping and dreaming. Most of them were about you or, well, how you were to him when he saw you and talked with you. He realizes now that, despite spending a lot of time with you in school, he didn’t know you as much as he thought he did. He could easily tell anyone what you looked liked if asked and deduced from the way you’d go out of your way just to hang out with him that you thought of him as your friend.

Was he your friend?

The question plagues him for days. Along with it, the subtle pressure to move on. Both are heavy weights on his shoulders and yet, he stubbornly refuses to entertain either, in fear of uncovering some dark twisted truth inside that’ll uncoil and taut the only connection he has of you left in him. 

Would you tell him?

——————————⋆

The panic comes to him in slow suffocating chunks, consuming his every breath until it tastes of nothing but ash and brimstone. He bellows as the world splits open, thrusting him into a cold and silent brightness that he can longer fill with the crying of his heart. Frightened by the emptiness and filled with a raging hellfire, he unfurls his shimmering leathery vans and lets the ground from under him crumble with a single beat. Thorns sprout out from the cracks, twisting, turning and slithering its way into the surrounding area, abetting the reverberating voice inside his head that dragooned him into engulfing the world in darkness, flames and thunderstorms.

As chaos ensued, he lets himself look up to the sky as if in search of something, or someone. “If I cannot transcend this emptiness and touch your hand一,” another voice, so broken and soft, whispered to him softly, “-then there is no need for this world to exist.”

——————————⋆

Hyperemotionality was a part of human composition. Nearly all of the fairies, believing themselves to have a higher sense of logicality when compared to their weaker counterparts, viewed this as nothing more than irrational detritus to be disposed of in order to keep the rationality and correctness of the mind but as time went on, converts started emerging from the masses with their strayed beliefs from the old philosophies, declaring that love (the most prominently destructive of all human emotion) was not something to be cast aside in arrogance and fear of the unknown.

He used to scoff at these nonconformists, thinking them foolish for fighting for something that inspired deformation of structure and irregularities— but then, he met you.

You were someone who let his guard down with gentleness and trust and made him experience things he has never experienced before.

He fell in love.

He slams his hand onto the wall, thump! There was no need to think of you now, not with the risk of him unwinding his thorned heart. Wiping out his mind of thoughts of you, he lets himself revert back to the shell of a living being he was left as and continues on with his day.

Can I come see you?

——————————⋆ 

Gentle hands press against the rough edged surface of his face, reaching out to him in his haze. “Malleus.” 

The voice is familiar, though for some reason he wasn’t sure where he’s heard it before. It calls to him again, louder and closer, enveloping him in warmth. He searches for its source frantically, afraid of losing it in the vastness until finally a shape emerges from the darkness. He blinks, his green beady eyes fixed on your relieved face smiling at him with tears running down your cheeks. “Y/N.” Your name comes out of him more like a question than a statement; his voice uncertain. You laugh as you press your forehead against his. “Yes.” you say, bringing his face closer until your noses touch. A moment passes before he exhales, laughing as you do with tears brimming the corner of his eyes.

He falls to his knees before you, shakily taking your hands and holding them to his face. The world blurs and mutes, leaving him with only the sight of you in front of him and the sound of your voice in his ears. He says your name again, this time easing himself into the recognition of the sound of it and knowing that there was nothing in the world beyond you and him in this moment.

——————————⋆ 

He was grateful for Lilia and the others for always being there to assist him. Their normalcy was an anchor that kept him from straying into the waters of contemplation. 

“Urgh, I think I’m coming down with something,” Sebek says from across the lunch table, looking undeniably pale and queasy. Silver flashes him a look of concern while Lilia, who was beside Malleus, perks up at this and smiles at Silver. “Is that so? Well, we can’t have you up and about now can we,” he says, “Why don’t you just call it a day and rest in your room. I’ll make sure to take care of you later and bring you some soup!”

Silver chokes, as if abruptly reminded of something. “You know what,” Sebek smiles nervously, “I was about to do that but now I think I’m starting to feel a little better.”

Sebek’s words, ‘-starting to feel a little better’ ring inside his head. It startles him at first, unsure of what it would do, but soon he lets out a small smile, for once feeling unbothered by the thought of it.

Are you feeling better as well?

——————————⋆ 

He emerges into a street filled with strange looking multicoloured vehicles in between what seems to be heavily windowed buildings that reflect him in all of his monstrous and scaly glory. He lets himself be awed by the peculiarity of its glaring surface for a moment before looking away and craning his neck around in search of the man you showed him with your memories. People around him point and shriek, some with phone cameras pointed at him, though he pays them no heed. You did warn him that his kind was not something regularly seen prancing about.

When he finally spots him in the crowd, gaping, not at him but at the figure in his hands, Malleus bends down and slowly reverts back in front of him with you sleeping peacefully in his arms. He didn’t know who he was; whether he was a familial relative or a friend or your lover but calmly, he walks up and brings his arms out to him. “They’re tired but okay,” he says, staring at the man before him who was already crying at the sight of you. Without needing to ask, Malleus gently hands you over to him. He thanks Malleus, though it was barely understandable with all the sobbing that he was doing, then brushes the hair out of your face. He watches the two of you for a while, letting the ache and regret sink in before closing his eyes and reluctantly turning away. The portal opens almost immediately, much to his dismay and expectantly swirls in front of him. He wonders, as he steps into it, if it was truly better for him to leave without saying goodbye. There was little chance that he’d see you again but some part of him didn’t want to hear you say it.

Concluding that their was no longer any reason to think about the what-ifs, he grants himself one last time to see you and smiles bitterly. “Take care of them.” he says before the portal shuts.

——————————⋆ 

Memories were as addictive as emotions. It was hard for him to accept to have loved and missed you, especially when you continued to plague his dreams. Sometimes, he even wished that he could be reborn again and again, just to see you in the days of the past. As time went on, he let the knot in his chest unravel and the weight on his shoulders lighten with the thought of you happy and enjoying life in your own world. 

It’ll be okay

He can almost hear you say it.

I wonder, he thought to himself, do you, too, dream of me?

He may never know the answer to that question but, one thing’s for sure, that was going to be alright with him.

[hypmic-writings]

I love your writing!//// May I ask for a scenario where Jakurai becomes smitten with someone who's good at singing, but he discovers they're blind (sorry if this is weirdly specific;;;

Never be sorry, I love writing weirdly specific fics! It just means they’re unique! Hope this is kind of what you wanted~

--

Jakurai always had respect for the arts.

He could often be found going to plays or orchestral concerts around Shinjuku, using the nights as a kind of ‘alone time’ for himself. He found them quite relaxing and enjoyed attending all kinds of productions.

That night was similar – it was hosted at a local theater that showcased up-and-coming artists from all around the city. Jakurai had seen some of these events before and he rather liked the newcomers. There was a sort of raw, emotional passion that came from many of them as opposed to some of the professionals who often left him wondering if they were simply performing for the money.

As the night went on and the performances progressed, Jakurai hadn’t found himself too attached to any act in particular.

That was, until you come on stage.

From the moment you opened your mouth to hit the first note of the song, Jakurai was taken with you. Your stage presence was more powerful than any of the other acts; your voice was strong and powerful and every melody you sung seemed to keep him on the edge of the seat. The entire music hall must have felt the same because the tension in the air was palpable as you continued to belt out the notes in your song.

When the last chord floated into the air, there was a moment of silence before a roaring of applause was filling the hall. Jakurai found himself standing with the others, giving you an ovation as he clapped whole-heartedly.

He was impressed and wanted to hear more.

It was difficult to find much information about you online and Jakurai felt disheartened as he realized that the next time he would be able to see you (or hear you) would be at another showcase. Every time a new lineup was announced, Jakurai would scan the list for your name

About a week after your initial performance, Jakurai found that you were performing again. This time the venue was smaller, but it was still an impressive gig and he immediately marked it on his calendar.  

That night, Jakurai made his way to the venue with something that could only be considered excitement. It wasn’t often that he felt this way, and most certainly not for other people, but he found himself thinking of you more and more.

Of course, he would never assume to know more about you than he did – you had never met him and he didn’t know anything about you. However, you had deeply impressed upon him the beauty of your singing and if that was attainable, he felt as though he needed it.

Jakurai glanced around the smaller hall and spotted an empty table closer to the stage. Once he took his seat, it was simply a waiting game. Waiting for the other acts to come and go, some more impressive than the others, until finally, your name was announced.

Jakurai’s eyes watched you closely as you slowly made your way onto the stage, looking out at the crowd before you. If you were nervous at all, it was not noticed as you smiled at the crowd before you.

“Good evening, everyone,” you began, keeping your tone calm. “My name is Y/N, Y/L/N, and I’ll be performing an original composition,” you explained before turning towards the piano player and nodding at him to begin.

Jakurai’s jaw nearly dropped as you began to sing.

Your voice was not the booming, powerful one he had heard before, but was now light and airy and almost angelic. The stark contrast in your vocal tone and abilities was incontrovertible and Jakurai was immediately stunned. He was not an easy man to surprise, but you had done so nevertheless.

He continued to listen to your soft, heartfelt song and, as he listened to the somewhat sad lyrics, he felt a sense of longing overcome him. He was in complete awe at your ability to convey emotion through your voice.

The rest of the room once again agreed as they all gave you a roar of applause once the song was ended. Jakurai joined in with the clapping and shook his head as he continued to marvel at what he had just heard.

“Ugh, aren’t they amazing? They’re new to the scene too.”

Jakurai’s eyes narrowed as he turned non-chalantly to the couple that was sitting closest to him. They were talking about you and he wanted to know more.

“Such a shame about their eyes though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you couldn’t tell? Yea, they’re blind.”

Jakurai’s eyes widened as he heard what they had said, but he made no move to interrupt their conversation.

Were you really blind? Jakurai had helped many patients with blindness before, but he did not know anyone personally who suffered from it. He could only imagine what that must be like for you as he thought back to your performance in the concert hall the other week.

Could it be that with your eyesight taken from you, your hearing was more acute? Was that why you were able to do such amazing things with your voice? No, of course you had worked hard to get to where you were and you were talented as well, but still. Jakurai wanted to know more, and he knew exactly what to do.

Once the performances had all ended, some people made their exit while others stayed behind to talk with the performers. Jakurai stayed and was sipping his water when he finally saw you exit the side door. This time, he noticed the small cane in your hand, but it was shrouded from his view as a few people came up to you, praising your performance.

“That was amazing, you did so well!”

“Wow, what a show, good job, Y/N!”

Jakurai watched as you politely bowed to them and had small conversations with each, making your way through the people. Once the others had left, Jakurai made his way over to you with.

“Excuse me, Y/N Y/L/N?” he asked, formally. You looked in his direction and nodded with a smile.

“That’s me,” you hummed, happily. Your voice was melodic and sweet, and it caused the corners of Jakurai’s lips to raise.

“Pleasure to meet you. My name is Jakurai Jinguji. I wanted to tell you that your performance tonight was beautiful,” Jakurai said, his eyes steadily fixed on yours. “I saw you at the concert last week as well and I must say that your musical talents are quite impressive,” he added genuinely, chuckling slightly.

You gave him another smile and laughed a little bit.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you to say,” you responded. “I’m impressed that you came to both of my shows. You must have really liked me,” you added with a wink.

Jakurai looked back at you in surprise and for a moment was glad that you couldn’t see his reaction.

“Oh, no it’s nothing like that, please don’t think that I’m some kind of – ”

He was cut off by the sound of your laughing, although it was quite melodious as well and he rather liked the sounds of it.

“I’m just teasing,” you said, your eyes slightly focused lower. “It was a nice compliment, thank you,” you added. Jakurai was about to respond, but you continued.

“But…your name sounds familiar…” you said, bringing a finger to your chin slightly. “Are you famous? You’re not scouting talent, are you?” you added, laughing once more.

Jakurai smiled slightly and shook his head.

“No, I’m merely a doctor,” he said, waving a hand. Your face lit up before him and you brought your eyes back to land on his.

“That’s right! I think you were mentioned on a radio show I was listening to a while ago!” you exclaimed. “I’m surprised someone as busy as you could make time for something like this,” you added, a little bit more bluntly than you had intended.

Jakurai nodded and hummed at your statement.

“Yes, normally I am quite busy, but I find that attending productions for the arts is rather cathartic for me,” he explained, his voice low and deep. “It’s quite nice to see local talent as well.”

You nodded in agreement.

“I can understand that,” you said. “Music has always been a creative outlet for me, so I understand your position. And thank you for supporting local talent,” you added with a chuckle. “We’d never be able to make it otherwise!”

Jakurai responded with a smile and the conversation continued to flow freely for the next several minutes. Eventually, you were called backstage by someone he could only assume was your manager, but before you left, you made him promise that he would come and support you again.

You were not what he had expected.

When he first found out you were blind, his thoughts were that you would be nervous and rather frail, but in fact it was quite the opposite. You were passionate and blunt and he was rather impressed at your ability to be strong-headed.

You were quite the intriguing character and Jakurai only wanted to know more.

[lancermylove]

My One and Only (Part 2/2)

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing: Kiro x Fem!MC (Reader)

Warning: Contains a little angst

A/N:  Part 1 can be found here. This didn’t quite turn out the way I wanted but hopefully, it’s okay. 

Word Count: 1616

———————————————

Kiro was starting to feel suffocated with so many people surrounding him, so he made his way out to the balcony. 

'What a quiet and peaceful night.' As Kiro gazed at the shimmering gems in the sky, he heard footsteps approaching him. 

"Hi, Kiro," a pair of frail arm encircled him from behind, "it has been a while since we have spoken to each other." 

He recognized the voice right away. "Hollow, what do you want? Don't touch me." The singer spoke in an annoyed voice as he pushed her arms away.

"Ouch. Kiro, why are you always so mean to me?" She said in a fake, cute voice while batting her long eyelashes. "Oh, but I know a way you will be nice."

"I will never be nice to you, no matter what." Kiro replied, trying hard to hold back his anger. He started to walk towards the tinted French doors that led into the party room, but Hollow blocked his path. 

"You should learn to listen to others when they're talking to you, especially when the most beautiful woman in the world is talking to you," cooed Hollow as she played with Kiro's shirt sleeve. "As I was saying, you should go out with me and leave MC."

"Don't take her name from your foul mouth, and I have no reason to leave her." Kiro's anger was slowly starting to get the better of him. This was not the first time Hollow had attempted to win Kiro's heart, and frankly, he was getting tired of it. 

"You need a reason? Well then, I must say your girlfriend's song is very commendable. I was very impressed when I read it." 

"How - How do you know about the song? What do you mean you read it?" Kiro snarled as he curled his fists into a tight ball. 

"Now that caught your attention, didn't it?" She snickered. 

Kiro grabbed her shoulder and shook her, "Where is that song? What did you do with it?" 

"Oh, the song is with one of my close friends, and he is so tempted to shred it to tiny pieces-" Hollow was cut off by an angered Kiro. 

"Don't you dare!" His grip on her shoulder was getting tighter and tighter. 

"Relax, Kiro. I will not do anything to the song as long as you agree to date me and leave MC," she spoke while freeing herself from Kiro's grip, "let me know your final decision by the end of tonight." 

Hollow pecked Kiro's cheek and walked away triumphantly. Kiro remained paralyzed, and all he could hear was the clicking of her heels as she vanished into the party hall. 

'This can't be.' 

'Where did Kiro disappear to?' MC had been searching for a while. She let out a deep sigh and walked out to the balcony to get some fresh air. To her surprise, Kiro was standing in the middle of the gallery, completely frozen.

"Kiro, I have been looking for you everywhere." MC marched up to him with a pout, "Why are you standing like a statue? Kiro? I am talking to you."

MC poked his cheek, but Kiro ignored her and walked to the edge of the balcony.

"Hey...what's wrong? Did something happened?" MC whispered as she approached him and hugged his arm.

"Don't touch me," Kiro said, pulling his arm from her hug. For a second, MC was shocked as she gawked at her boyfriend.

"D-Don't touch me? My dear boyfriend, are you drunk?" She furrowed her eyebrows and placed her hand on her hips, "How many times do I have to remind you to go easy on the drinks?"

"I am not your boyfriend, and I am not drunk." He replied in a sharp voice, causing MC to wince a little.

"You are not my boyfriend? You're definitely drunk." MC took hold of his arm and tugged on it, "Come on, let's get you home."

"I said, don't touch me!" Kiro yanked his arms with force, causing MC to lose her balance and fall onto the marble floor.

"Listen carefully, I am not your boyfriend, and don't dare to come close to me, ever again." Kiro's actions and words were out of character, and MC was at a complete loss of words as she could only stare at him with tears in her eyes.

"You and I are over." With those harsh words, Kiro stormed towards the party hall.

MC jumped to her feet and ran after him, grabbing hold of his shirt. "You are b-breaking up with me? Did I do something to hurt you?"

While MC was pleading for him to answer her question, Kiro was holding back the tears that were threatening to fall. He swallowed a lump in his throat and spoke in a drained voice, "You haven't done anything wrong. I am just tired of you."

Kiro freed his shirt from MC's grip and sluggishly walked into the party hall. He made his way to a quiet hallway and rested his forehead against the nearby wall.

'I am sorry, MC. I can't let Hollow destroy your prized possession. I love you very much and...I am sorry.' Kiro balled his fist and punched the wall, trying once again to hold back his tears.

"So, you abandoned her?" Hollow's taunting voice rang through Kiro's ears. "Good, now it's just you and me."

"Where is the song?" He asked in a low voice, controlling the rage pent up inside him.

"It's safely returned to her house." She said playfully, "Now let's go!"

Kiro let Hollow drag her away from the party, but little did he know that MC was watching them from the balcony.

~~~x~~~x~~~x~~~x~~~

(Narration change: MC’s POV)

Two long years had passed since my breakup with Kiro. I had tried hard to fix everything between us, but he refused to talk to me, and at one point, he even ended up blocking me. It was hard getting him out of my mind and heart, so I eventually gave in to my heart and quietly admired him from afar.

I sat in the cafe that Kiro and I often visited. 'This coffee was his favorite. Kiro...I miss you.' 

The TV was playing in the background, but for the most part, I was ignoring it until the reporter's words caught my undivided attention. 

"Now for the latest breaking news," the lady reporter blared in an excited voice, "the story about Kiro and the solo artist MC." 

'A story about me and Kiro?' I glanced at the TV screen. 'How did they even find out about that? Kiro's fans are not going to be happy.' 

"We have found out that superstar Kiro and MC had been dating two years ago. According to their close friends, they loved each other, but one day they suddenly broke up. No one knows the reason behind their breakup, but our leading investigation team has gotten their hands on valuable information. Suzuki san, please tell us what you have learned." 

I waited patiently for the reporter to finish the story while taking a sip of my hot coffee. 'They know the reason for our breakup?'

For a brief second, my mind went back to the moment on the balcony. 'You haven't done anything wrong. I am just tired of you.' 

"Our trusted source informed us that the reason behind the breakup was Hollow, the famous online celebrity." 

'Hollow? W-What is she talking about?’ My mind was rushing like crazy, making me feel dizzy. 

The field reporter continued, "Hollow was responsible for taking one of MC's composition and threatening Kiro with it. To prevent the song from getting stolen, Kiro dumped MC and began dating Hollow.”

After hearing those words, I had no idea how to react. 'Kiro wanted to save my song? How did Hollow even know about my song? What is going on?'

As I sat still, drowned in my thoughts, my eyes moved about the cafe and caught sight of a familiar figure. I arose from my seat and made my way to his table. 

His eyes were glued to the coffee cup he held tightly in his quivering hands. I quietly took a seat next to him and studied his face. Though he looked just as handsome as before, his usually bright eyes were dull, and his skin had grown pale. 

"What the reporter said - is it true?" I tried to sound serious, but my voice cracked as soon as the words left my lips. 

He didn't reply. 

"Ki-" I stopped midway, realizing that we were in a public place, "Mr. Chips, is that the real reason you left me?" 

I tenderly touched his hand, and though Kiro didn't reply, his downcast eyes told me everything I needed to know. 

"Your reason for leaving me was the song? I could have written another one. Why didn't you tell me?" I couldn't believe that he would sacrifice our relationship for my song. 

"Y-You said the song meant a lot of you. It was your first song and-" Kiro mumbled, letting his words trail off. 

My heart was in turmoil, and without thinking once, I embraced Kiro. "You meant more to me than anything." 

"Meant?" He sniffled. 

"No, Mr.Chips. Nothing is more important than you. You are my one and only love." I pecked his cheek and squeezed him tighter. 

"I am sorry, MC. Please forgive me." Kiro cooed and returned my embrace. 

"How could I not forgive you? After all, a wise man once told me that if a woman truly loves a man, then she would forgive him for the mistakes he makes."

“That man sounds smart.” Kiro chuckled before pulling me into a deep kiss. 

------------------------------------

➣ MLQC Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

[willow-salix]

Day 98 of Isolation on Tracy Island and no one is moving today, well, me, Virgil and Alan are fine physically but we are being lazy and hanging out on the couches with the rest of the ones that had attempted to hula hoop. The thing with hooping is that it takes weeks to toughen up your skin and muscles to cope with such a pounding as they will get from 2kilos of hoop slamming into them over and over at speed, I’d warned them, they hadn’t listened. Them of the rock hard abs had thought they had it covered, now they are regretting being so cocky and are laying around groaning every time they try to move.

We were laying there like sloths refusing to move (yes, John is wearing his rodeo shirt and I am wearing my hideous T-shirt and no, neither of us are complaining because we are adults) me because I had no real reason to need to move and I’d much rather lay there and veg than actually deal with moving and them because they were hurting.

They were all lying around in various poses of ouch, Scott was draped artfully in one of the bucket seats, looking relaxed but I knew the real reason was because the curved back was actually helping him get in and out of it, he had his tablet with him and was apparently catching up on some admin, but I know him and I know the look on his face and it definitely wasn't paperwork he was looking at. My money would be on him watching a movie with the subtitles on.

Alan was playing a hand held video game with Gordon, Virgil was tinkling on the piano working on a new composition which was actually a fascinating process to watch, he’d hum a little, plink out a few notes, hum again, play with a little variation and then write it down.

John was stretched out on the couch, his back resting against my chest because apparently I'm comfier and I was being nice by rubbing his abused stomach soothingly. I had stolen my ipod back from Scott and had my headphones on and was seriously vibing, totally chilled out and just loving life when the comm on Jeff’s desk beeped.

I allowed John to sit up from his prone position stretched across my lap and helped drag him to his feet when he couldn’t get his abdominals to obey his commands.

“Not so fun when it’s happening to you, is it,” Virgil laughed, earning himself a level 4 John glare, patent pending. But Space man was still lighter on his feet than the lumbering elephant Virgil had been doing an impression of and was soon easing gently into the desk chair.

“Yes EOS? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I believe so,” she answered.

“Then is there something I can help with?”

“I think we have another one of those calls, but I’m not sure so I thought you should listen first.”

John rolled his eyes and Scott groaned.

“Put it through then, thanks, EOS.”

“Hello?” a young sounding voice spoke over the comms.

“This is International Rescue, how may we be of assistance today?” John asked, immediately slipping into his calm, capable work tone.

“Hello,” the sound of a muffled giggle could be heard somewhere in the background and John lifted his hand to cut the call. I jumped into action, slashing my hand at him in a ‘don’t you dare’ gesture. We were all bored, but I had an idea of how to make it better.

I sat down on the edge of the desk and made a continue motion with my hand.

“Can I have your name, caller?”

“Erm...name?”

“Yes, it’s standard procedure.”

“My...my name's Yuri,” another muffled giggle. “Yuri Nator.”

Alan and Gordon snorted with laugher, although Scott didn't look impressed and neither did John, Virgil just looked resigned to the fact that all teenagers were idiots. I could understand that one.

I gestured for him to let me take over and launched into my best impression of Janine from Ghostbusters.

“International Rescue, what do you want?”

This time even Scott sniggered. John, being John, lent back in his chair and let me work my magic, he’d seen this happen far too many times.

“So, Mr Nator, can you tell me a bit about your situation?” I continued.

“Well, I’m trapped.”

“Trapped, OK let me just pull up my forms for trapped citizens,” I paused for a few seconds then continued. “On a scale of one to ten how trapped would you say you are?”

“How trapped?”

“It’s not a hard question, how trapped are we talking? Have you just got a smashed ankle or have you lost your whole leg? Have you had to gnaw off any of your own limbs? Come on kid, time is money, you know we charge by the minute, right? This is going on your phone bill.”

“Trapped erm...maybe a five?”

“Five, alright, now where are you trapped on a scale of one to ten, one being you tripped over a hole in the sidewalk and a twig landed on you and ten being you are currently held hostage under the sea by three mermaids and a whale?”

Gordon buried his face in a pillow to stop his laughter carrying across the room.

“Maybe a three?”

“Three, alright, trapped down a well, got it. Now, do you have any friends or relatives with you?”

“No, I’m alone,” frantic whispering was heard over the line.

“Totally alone, OK, I’ll add Billy no mates to your record, nearly done, just a few more questions before I pass you over to the relevant department head. Now, can you tell me if you are wearing pants or shorts today, please?”

“Erm...pants.”

“Has wet his pants, added to your case file. Now, Yuri Nator with the wet pants, can you please confirm your location?”

“I’m..not sure?”

“Tracing your calls to find your location I’ll add lost idiot to your file, transferring you now and thank you for using International Rescue as your rescuing service today.” I beckoned Gordon over and I swear I’ve never seen him move so fast, even with his sore tummy, although he had to take a deep breath before talking.

“Hey, this is the water rescue department, how may I help you today?”

“Erm...nothing, I’m fine. All good here.”

“My file says that you are a Yuri Nator and have wet your pants because you were scared when you fell down a well. Is that correct? Can I just ask you if Timmy is down there with you?”

“Timmy? I don’t think so, I don’t know anyone named Timmy.”

“No Timmy, check. Any Lassie’s? Because if there is a Lassie I’m afraid that is out of our jurisdiction and we’ll have to pass this case over to animal control.”

“No Lassie.”

“No Lassie, good to hear, you’d really know you’re in trouble if they bring out the big dogs.”

“Dogs?”

“Yep, dogs. Now, the problem we’re going to have is that being in a well, it’s going to be a bit too snug to maneuver Thunderbird Four down there, so we’re going to have to come up with an alternative plan. I’m going to pass you over to our logistics department to follow up on your case. Have a great day, don’t let the well piranhas bite you too hard, that will invalidate your rescuers insurance. Thanks for using us as your rescuers today.”

Gordon handed the call over to Scott, who took it on his comm, not wanting to move from his comfy spot.

“Logistics department,” Scott barked out in his toughest commander voice, the one that every one of his younger brothers knew meant big trouble. “I’m going to ask you some questions, you just have to say yes or no, got it?”

There was silence on the other end of the call.

“I asked you a question, do you understand me?”

There was a rattling sound as the phone was passed around a few times and then went dead.

John hit a button and called the number back.

“Hello?” a different voice answered.

“We know where you are, we know where you live, we know where this phone is registered, we are sending help to your location. We were told that you are trapped and as animal control is not involved we will be continuing our attempt to rescue you,” John informed him, just managing to hold in a laugh until Scott took over again.

"Logistics, do you have a basic education? Yes or no?"

"Yes?"

"You don't sound so sure of that. Do you have any plans to attend college?"

"Maybe?"

"Useless layabout, got it. Have you ever thrown up on a ride?"

"N-no…"

"The truth, now!"

"Yes."

"Adding will blow chunks to your case file. Have you tried to get yourself out of your situation?"

"No."

"Not very resourceful, got it. Now, how did you get into your current situation, did you trip, fall while looking or were you pushed?"

"I...tri- no I fell in."

"Adding clumsy idiot to your file, passing you over to the next department."

Virgil grinned as he took over.

“This is the International Rescue land rescue department, I'm the ground control operator,” he told them as Alan came and sat down beside him on the piano stool.

“We’ve been told that you are trapped down a well and that a water rescue is not possible so we need to determine if we can attempt a land rescue,” he continued in his most pleasant voice.

“Land rescue?”

“But the problem with a land rescue is that we’d have to drill down under the foundations of the well and try to break through its outer core, there is a number of risks involved in this, including drowning, crushing, cave in, impaling with a large drill and suffocation as the air is sucked out. Can we just ask which would be your preferred risk to take?”

“Risk?” the voice on the phone sounded even younger and now completely terrified.

“There’s always risks involved, kid. Do I take it that none of these options appeal to you?”

“N-no they don’t.”

“Then I have no choice but to pass you on to our space department. Have a nice rescue.”

“Space department here, how may I rescue you today?” Alan joined in, already enjoying himself.

“Space rescue? I’m not in space.”

“No, but you will be! Isn’t that cool?”

“I’ll be in space?”

“Yeah, the plan is to lower a rope down to you from Thunderbird Three. Then you’ll tie it around your waist, make sure you tie that sucker good and tight, we don’t want you coming undone half way up now, do we?”

“No?”

“That is correct. Also, remember not to hold your breath when you leave earth's atmosphere or your lungs will explode. Got it?”

“What? Explode?” the caller’s voice had taken on a fearfully high pitch.

“Uh oh, I can now confirm that we have added a code brown to the wet pants situation, Thunderbird Two. Caller, are you still there? We’ll be there to pick you up in an hour, be ready to see some stars!”

“No! I’m sorry, we lied, no one is in trouble, we’re sorry, we’re so sorry. Please don’t tell our moms or charge us for the call. We won’t do it again.”

“Tell your friends!” Alan chirped as John hung up the call.

We were silent for a second or two before we all burst out laughing, which led to many painful groans as sore stomachs protested. But it had certainly cheered us up.

[brucespringsteen]

Do you have any Beginner Bruce recs?

here’s the top 4 everyone seems to love... But i’m going to say that “born to run” took me awhile to appreciate. even tho its his most known song 

“thunder road” - the opening song on born to run and is a perfect example of bruce’s songwriting and overall composition. it’s cinematic and charming

“dancing in the dark” - from born in the usa. bruce’s biggest hit and biggest pop song. it has more depth than it seems 

“i’m on fire” - another from bitusa. a perfect entry into bruce’s concise but lingering songwriting which he utilizes a lot on records like darkness on the edge of town

“hungry heart” - from the river. this is bruces first pop song. it’s fun to sing along to ❤️

I would not suggest listening to his records chronologically, but by the kind of music you already like! so...

if you like singer-songwriter/acoustic guitar: “the river,” “atlantic city,” “johnny 99,″ “brilliant disguise,””devils and dust,” “the ghost of tom joad,”

if you like blues/60s soul: “spirit in the night,” “tenth avenue freeze out,” “new york city serenade” 

if you like rock n roll: “jungleland,” “prove it all night,” “the ties that bind,” 

if you like ballads: “backstreets,” “racing in the street,” “the promise,” “my fathers house” 

if you like country: “tougher than the rest,” “western stars,” “the rising,” “open all night,” “this hard land,”